


Every New Beginning

by JB Harris (LizAna)



Series: The Janto Files [14]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Episode: Big Finish Audio Drama 2.5: Broken, Episode: s01e01 Everything Changes, Episode: s01e02 Day One, Episode: s01e03 Ghost Machine, Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Episode: s01e05 Small Worlds, Episode: s01e06 Countrycide, Episode: s01e07 Greeks Bearing Gifts, Episode: s01e08 They Keep Killing Suzie, Episode: s01e09 Random Shoes, Episode: s01e10 Out of Time, Episode: s02e12 Fragments, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual kissing, Flat Holm, Flirting, M/M, Slow Burn, janto, kind of a happy ending I guess?, that's sexual harassment sir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 83,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizAna/pseuds/JB%20Harris
Summary: This basically connects the flashbacks in Fragments where Ianto convinces Jack to give him a job, to Jack and Ianto sleeping together for the first time. Canon compliant, slow burn, angst, eventual smut... I want this to have a happy ending but at this point I have no idea how to do this while keeping it canon?!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I've been working on this for a while now and I've written a fair bit of it (I'll be editing as I post, prob twice a week at this stage) however I haven't finished it yet and still haven't decided where and how I'm going to do that. So it could go a bit beyond Jack and Ianto first sleeping together, but I'm not making any promises. As I said in the summary, it's canon compliant as far as I understand the timelines. Some of it might be questionable though, because I think Big Finish have somewhat established a new canon version of events with the audio Broken, compared to what was previously accepted as canon from the Captain's Blogs that was on the Torchwood website once upon a time (and no longer exist apart from some bits archived on Livejournal.) Anyway, I'll explain that further down the track when we get to it. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my version of how Ianto and Jack went from strangers to the couple we all know and love.  
> Oh, and this was partly inspired by Jack saying "the end is where we start from" in the closing scene of Exit Wounds.

_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end._

Closing Time by Semisonic

“I should go.” Ianto could barely catch his breath as he pushed himself up and climbed off Jack, too many emotions colliding inside him. Because just for a split second he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten why he was there, what he was doing, that Lisa was suffering, waiting for him to save her. He’d forgotten the desolation and the nightmares. Jack had made him laugh. _Laugh_. For the first time since Canary Wharf. He’d laughed, while Lisa was at the small flat he’d found for them, probably crying in pain in like she did most nights.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it, because for a second there, lying on top of Jack while the other man had shifted subtly beneath him, their noses brushing as Jack titled his chin up in a blatant invitation, Ianto had barely stopped himself from closing the small distance between their mouths to kiss him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now guilt was riding him mercilessly. He shoved his shaking hands in his pockets as he hurried away, hunching his shoulders against the tension he could feel building in his chest.

“Hey!” Jack called out, his voice echoing slightly in the huge, empty space. Ianto paused and half looked back, but couldn’t turn around, not when he was struggling to keep it all inside. “Report for work first thing tomorrow.”

All he could manage was a single small nod, not even sure if Jack had seen it as he resumed walking, keeping his pace steady, even though he wanted to run.

“Like the suit by the way.”

For some reason, those words—an echo of his own complements on Jack’s coat—were almost his undoing.

He swallowed down the sob threatening to rise up and continued walking away from Jack. His plan had worked. He’d gotten the job he needed at Torchwood Three to save Lisa, except it was nothing but a hollow victory. He had no idea how he was going to front up tomorrow morning and pretend like everything was fine with the deceptions he’d already started spinning.

Jack might have been an arrogant prick—according to Yvonne Hartman anyway—but he certainly wasn’t dumb. Ianto knew he was going to have his work cut out for him if he was going to pull this off.

He walked from the deserted warehouse and then caught a cab back to his flat, letting himself in quietly just in case Lisa was actually sleeping. When he went into the bedroom, however, it was to find Lisa breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling where he’d taped up pictures for her to look at, sweat beading her forehead. He hurried over to the dresser where he’d left their dwindling supply of pain killers and sedatives that seemed less effective with each passing day.

“Hey,” he said gently as he stepped up next to her. There was a small space between stacks of equipment he’d scavenged from the ruins of Torchwood One to keep her alive. She kept telling him, however, that if she was going to survive and heal, then he needed to build something similar to a conversion unit. At first he’d adamantly refused, not wanting any kind of cyber technology anywhere near her—well, any other than the bits and pieces she was currently connected to. But as she’d deteriorated, she’d convinced him it was the only way she was going to come through this.

For the technology and information he was going to need to build it, there’d only been two options—UNIT or Torchwood Three in Cardiff. He’d ruled out UNIT almost right away. He wasn’t cut out for the military—the few times he’d been forced into the field during his tenure with Torchwood One had pretty much been terrifying and he still wasn’t sure how he’d survived any of them… luck, probably. So it’d only left Torchwood Three and Jack bloody Harkness, as he’d often heard Yvonne refer to him.

“How was your night?” Lisa asked in a rasping voice, swallowing after she got the words out.

He reached for the jug of water on the night stand and poured her a cup. “It worked, finally. I got the job. I’m starting first thing in the morning.”

His voice sounded strained, and of course Lisa noticed right away.

“What happened?” she asked, bringing her head up and accepting the pills on her tongue, then letting him give her the water through a straw.

“Jack Harkness. He’s not what I expected. I don’t know if I can do this, Lisa.” He swallowed down the lump in his throat, the guilt raking painfully through him again. How could he sit there and say that, when it might be the only way to save her life?

Despite all he’d heard about Jack during his time at Torchwood One—that he’d flirt with everyone and anyone, that he didn’t have an ounce of humility but was gorgeous enough to pull it off, that he pretty much swanned around and did whatever he wanted—Ianto really hadn’t been prepared for the force of nature that was the man himself. Nothing he’d seen of Jack so far fitted with the picture he’d created in his head. Jack had an intensity about him that Ianto hadn’t expected to find.

She gave him a wan smile. “You’ve never given yourself enough credit, Ianto. You can do anything you put your mind to, I’ve seen it so many times. I wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t true.”

He returned her smile, though he knew it was strained. “Of course you think that. You’re blinded by love.”

She gave a laugh that came out sounding more like a cough and stretched her fingers for his hand. He clasped it tightly, hating how they always felt cold, no matter how many blankets he put on her or how he kept the heating turned up.

“You’ll be fine, Ianto. I know it. Don’t worry about Jack Harkness. Just dig whatever information you can about cyber units out of the archives and in a few short weeks, it’ll all be over. I’ll be better and then we can go to Hawaii.”

“Hawaii?” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I though it was Fiji you wanted to visit.”

“Anywhere there’s you and a warm tropical beach. Maybe we can visit both.” Her eyes drooped, and she seemed a little more relaxed.

“Think you can get some sleep now?” He stroked a hand over her forehead, and she leaned into his touch.

“You should get some rest as well,” she murmured. “First day tomorrow.”

His stomach flipped over, but he couldn’t work out if it was nerves or anticipation. Probably a lot of both. Lisa seemed to be slipping off to sleep, so he whispered goodnight and quietly left the room. He made himself a cup of tea and stood in the kitchen drinking it, listening to the constant whoosh and whirr of the machines helping to keep Lisa alive.

A few short weeks. A simple ruse. Get into the Torchwood archives and find what he needed to build something like a conversion unit—just not a conversion unit. More like a life support unit. He would do it for Lisa. He’d do anything for her.

He rinsed the mug and then went into the livingroom, pulling out the pile of blankets and pillows from where he kept them stored during the day. He set up the couch with automatic movements borne of doing this night after night. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Lisa and hold her, but she was in constant pain. He could barely risk touching her without inadvertently hurting her. The weeks since Canary Wharf had been hell, but surely he was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

***

Ianto walked along the quay, just like he had a few mornings past when he’d ambushed Jack with a cup of coffee. Except this morning he was wearing a suit—very carefully selected blue-grey shirt, navy blue tie shot through with silver pinstripes and a dark suit. He’d worn a suit everyday in London, so when he’d made the final attempt with Jack last night, he’d decided to go all in—full Torchwood One mode. Not that he’d been flawless about the whole thing. The pterodactyl had been a little frightening and he’d almost given up the game when he hadn’t been able to help yelling as he’d run into position before he and Jack had launched their admittedly faulty plan. But it’d all worked out in the end—almost too well.

Every time he’d closed his eyes last night, he’d flashed back to that moment when he’d ended up on top of Jack, breathing in those 51st century pheromones—whatever that meant—and feeling every muscled inch of the man pressed into him. He’d never been so evidently attracted to a man before, and the deep welling of lust had been shocking and overwhelming in its intensity. A few times he’d looked at other blokes and thought _they’re a bit alright_ , but it’d been more along the lines of being able to see why a woman would find the guy attractive and wishing he had a bit more going for himself. He hadn’t been prepared for Jack, and now he wondered what was going to happen when he laid eyes on the man again this morning.

He didn’t have to spend long waiting as the door to the tourist information kiosk flung open and Jack came striding out, coat flaring behind him and grin lighting up his face. He really did look amazing in the coat. With the infectious smile and the swagger, the man was just—

 _Shit_. There it was. That low burning warmth starting in his stomach and radiating outward.

“No coffee this morning?” Jack asked as he stopped in front of him, totally throwing him off kilter.

“Oh, no. I didn’t think— I can go get—”

“I’m kidding, Ianto. Relax.” Jack set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, but then let go and shifted back again just as quickly, moving off along the boardwalk. “Coming?”

For a second, he stared after Jack, before shooting a glance back at the door to the tourist information office, then hurrying after his new boss.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir—” he started as he caught up.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow, a gleam in his eye that Ianto couldn’t decipher. “ _Sir?_ Hmm, I like it. The others all call me Jack, but a little formality never hurt anyone. Ask away, Jones, Ianto Jones.”

Ianto took a second to grope for his equilibrium, which he’d possibly left in his car since he didn’t seem to be in possession of it, and then straightened his already straight tie to settle himself.

“Where are we going? I thought the entrance to Torchwood Three was through the tourist information office.”

Jack threw his shoulders back as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Going down through there is so pedestrian. I thought we should start your first day the right way.”

Ianto didn’t reply to that cryptic comment as they crossed the Plass and then Jack stopped at the base of the water tower.

“Here, stand next to me. Best view in Cardiff.” Jack held out an arm and Ianto dubiously stepped over. But apparently the two feet he left between them wasn’t good enough for Jack, who tugged him right into his side until there was no space between them and each breath he took was nothing but the damned amazing scent of _Jack_ , making his pulse pick up speed.

Before he could gather his thoughts enough to either protest or move away, Jack held out his arm, pushing the sleeve of his coat back to reveal a thick wrist strap with some kind of device inside it. He pressed a couple of buttons and the paving slab beneath them shifted and smoothly started dropping beneath street level. Ianto grabbed Jack’s shoulder in surprise, but when he saw the smile that crossed the other man’s face, as well as the fact that Jack shifted subtly closer, he cleared his throat and made himself let go.

As they left the outside world, he became aware that no one on the Plass was taking any notice of the two people slowly but surely sinking into the ground at the base of the water tower.

“It’s an invisible lift,” Jack told him. A chameleon circuit imprinted on—”

“Otherwise known as a perception filter,” he interrupted, sending Jack a look that said his attempts at trying to impress him were failing. He felt like he needed to get the upper hand somehow, since Jack had kept him off balance from the moment he’d stepped out of the tourist office.

“Very good,” Jack replied, seeming more impressed than annoyed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your background.”

Something in Jack’s tone told him that his _background_ wasn’t necessarily a plus in this situation, and once again, he was reminded of the few times Jack had called Yvonne and the inevitable yelling that had followed. He’d answered and transferred a few of those calls in the months he’d spent as Yvonne’s PA, and the first time he’d approached Jack in the park over the weevil a few nights passed, he’d had the ridiculous fear that Jack would recognise his voice.

Jack Harkness hadn’t made a secret of the fact he disagreed with how Yvonne ran Torchwood One. The pair had almost been mortal enemies, so before he’d told Jack his name, he’d carefully altered his records and deleted all references of ever working with Yvonne, knowing Jack would do some kind of digging on him. If Jack found out he’d been Yvonne’s PA, that Ianto had known and experienced more of Torchwood One’s inner workings than a simple junior researcher would have ever had access to, he knew this would all be over before it began

The lift arrived at floor level and Ianto took in the cavernous space. He’d heard and read a few things about Torchwood Three; the rift manipulator, the legendary archives that rivalled even those Torchwood One possessed before the tower had come down; Jack Harkness and the fact he’d flirt with anything that breathed. Not to mention the weirder rumours surrounding Jack; that he must be in possession of some sort of time travelling technology which he refused to acknowledge or share because there were unverifiable accounts of him over the past hundred-plus years of Torchwood Cardiff history. It was part of why Yvonne had hated Jack so much. She’d wanted to know all his secrets, have more control over what Torchwood Three were doing, but apparently Captain Jack Harkness was a power unto himself. Now that he’d met the man, he could understand why.

Jack led him around the base of the water tower and up half a dozen metal stairs to where there were several workstations set up. Two women were present—one an Asian woman with short dark hair and glasses, and the other a tall, slender woman with curly hair

“Owen!” Jack hollered as he came to a stop. A second later, a man emerged from a section with the words _cold storage_ in black and white tiles across the lintel above the steps. The man was wearing a white doctor’s coat and seemed to be sizing him up. He also kind of looked hung over.

“So this is the bloke you said was stalking you and then suddenly decided to pull a job out of thin air for last night,” the man said with a London accent, crossing his arms belligerently. “Personally, I would have stuck with the plan to retcon him back to infancy.”

“Doctor Owen Harper, Ianto Jones.” Jack turned to look at him and leaned in a little. “Just ignore him when he gets like that, which is about eighty percent of the day. The rest of us do.”

“Screw you, Harkness.” Owen tossed him the finger before turning and stomping back down the stairs. Ianto watched him go, trying not to let his mouth hang open. He had never heard anyone tell their boss _screw you_ , let alone flip them off. But Jack simply laughed and then turned to the Asian woman.

“Toshiko Sato,” Jack motioned her closer and Toshiko came over, pulling off her glasses and then holding out a hand to shake with him.

“Nice to meet you. I just want you to know up front that I was the one who checked your records and complied the report for Jack, so I already know more about you than you’re probably comfortable with.”

“Um—” For some reason he looked at Jack when he found himself lost for words at Toshiko’s almost painful honesty.

“Don’t worry, our Toshiko is discreet. If there was anything in those records you’re worried about, she won’t breathe a word.”

Jack hustled him on, over to the work station that was set a little away from the rest and scattered with dismantled pieces of tech.

“This is Suzie Costello, second in charge.”

Suzie glanced up and sent him a reserved nod, expression neither friendly, nor hostile. Just disinterested. She quickly returned to whatever she was working on.

He couldn’t help noticing the hub was in disarray. Tosh’s desk was mostly clean, but everywhere else was cluttered with random pieces of what could have been alien junk for all he knew, empty takeaway boxes and containers, stacks of a paper coffee cups and an impressive film of dust over the things and place that obviously weren’t touched or used very often.

“So, that’s the team. Now you get the grand tour.” Jack’s hand landed on his lower back, making him jump a little. Jack shifted back again, eyeing him closely. “No need to be nervous, Ianto. You’re going to be fine here.”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie a little. “And what is it you want me to do, exactly?”

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tosh watching them curiously, and even Owen’s head appeared over the top of the stairs, taking in the exchange.

Jack glanced around and suddenly seemed unimpressed with the audience. “Why don’t we take this up to my office? We can start getting the personnel files in order and discuss the terms of your employment.”

Jack started to step toward what was presumably his office as Owen came the rest of the way up the steps.

“Hang on, Harkness! It’s your turn to go out for coffee.”

Jack threw an annoyed look over his shoulder. “You go, I’m kinda busy here.”

Owen crossed his arms. “I went the last two times. If you’re not going, then send Tosh.”

“I told you, I’m close to a critical break through on these rift predictions.” Tosh looked up long enough to frown at Owen over the top of her glasses.

“Suzie?” Owen called out with a hopeful note in his voice.

“Nope, I’m pulling rank. You want it so bad, Owen, you go get it.”

“I could—” The words were out of his mouth before he even knew what he was going to say. He looked at Jack. “I don’t suppose you have a coffee machine here? I could just make it for you.”

Jack crooked his finger and then led him up a circular set of metal stairs leading to another level where there was a kind of kitchenette set up on the balcony that ran around three of the hub’s four walls. It seemed like an odd place to have it, but he kept his thoughts to himself as Jack shifted some stuff around to reveal an ancient-looking coffee machine.

His taste bud were practically tingling at the thought of the coffee he was going to get out of this machine… if it still worked. He’d worked as a barista when he'd first arrived in London, before he'd landed at Torchwood One. It’d been a convenient coincidence that he happened to be excellent at making coffee. One of the cafes he’d worked in had been owned by an Italian couple whose pride and joy had been a forty-year-old coffee machine that looked very similar to the one Jack had just uncovered.

“This had been here for longer than anyone can remember, but no one can figure out how to work it. Truthfully, it’s probably broken.” Jack stepped back and glanced at him. “If you get coffee out of this, then there won’t be anything in the hub you won’t get a handle on.”

Ianto took off his jacket, ignoring the way Jack was watching him closely as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Give me half an hour.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but started back toward the stairs. “Thirty minutes and counting.”

He didn’t reply as Jack clattered back down the stairs to the main level. He was too busy already examining the parts, working out what might need cleaning and if anything looked broken. He had no idea why, but he got the feeling that whatever happened with this coffee machine was going to dictate the rest of his days here at Torchwood Three. Though he wasn’t planning on staying—he’d have to disappear as soon as Lisa got better, because if Jack ever found out he’d stolen information from the archives to mess with cyber technology, Jack would retcon him back to childhood, if not kill him—but for some reason, he wanted to prove himself. And it was going to start right here with this coffee machine.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack got up from his desk as he heard Ianto’s careful footsteps on the stairs, bringing him down to the main level. It had been twenty-seven minutes since he’d left the young man getting ready to take on the coffee machine, and Jack had just been debating whether to go up and see how he was doing or wait until the full thirty minutes had passed.

But he found the decision had been taken out of his hands as Ianto came down the stairs bearing a tray with mugs set out on it.

“You’re kidding me!” Jack hurried out, the glorious scent of coffee reaching his nostrils. He’d been indulging Ianto a little, letting him play with the coffee machine, not really believing he could get the stubborn old thing to work. It’d more been about giving Ianto some space and letting him do something to take his mind off things since he’d seemed a lot more nervous than Jack had expected him to be.

After pestering him into the job, Jack had thought Ianto would have turned up determined and eager to please this morning. Instead he’d been reserved and perfectly polite, leaving Jack wondering what’d happened to the somewhat irreverent, witty man who helped him chase down the pterodactyl the night before.

“I wasn’t sure how everyone liked their coffee, so I brought down everything.” Ianto went over and set the tray on the cluttered table in front of the tattered old couch. Five mugs were filled with steaming coffee, but there was also a small carafe of milk, cream, sugar, even honey, as well as a plate of neatly arranged biscuits.

The others all came forward, Tosh sending Ianto a grateful smile, while Owen looked suspicious. Before anyone could touch anything, however, Ianto grabbed the blue and white stripe mug and held it out toward him,

“This one’s yours, sir. I get the feeling you’re a man who likes an extra strong coffee.”

“Good guess,” he replied, fingers brushing Ianto’s as he took the offered mug. If Ianto noticed, he didn’t react, turning his attention back to the others who were loading up their drinks with cream and sugar, Ianto seeming to note who was adding what.

Jack lifted his mug, mouth already watering. Truthfully, the coffee Ianto had presented him the other morning had _almost_ worked and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. He’d lived a long time and travelled to many places, but he’d never tasted coffee that good before.

He took a sip and couldn’t help the groan of pleasure, which he knew sounded indecent from the way the others paused to stare at him and Ianto dropped his gaze, almost looking self-conscious.

“Oh Ianto, if you make me one of these every day, I’m yours forever.”

Owen raised an eyebrow, looking from him to Ianto, who was fussing over his own cup of coffee now and studiously not replying to his comment.

“Now I see why you decided to give him a job, Jack.” There was a hint of challenge in Owen’s gaze, and Jack met it head on, staring steadily back at him. Yes, Ianto was an attractive man and there were definite sparks between them. But that was not why he’d changed his mind and given the young man a job.

“We could do with a teaboy around here,” Owen finished with a suave grin, enjoying his own wit.

Jack made a shooing gesture at them. “Okay people, you’ve got your coffee, now get back to work. I’ve got a new employee to handle.”

“Oh, I bet you’re going to handle him alright,” Owen mumbled into his cup as he walked away.

Tosh and Suzie quickly made themselves busy, getting back to what they’d been doing. Jack looked at Ianto, expecting him to be embarrassed or self-conscious, but instead he was shooting a glare after the doctor’s retreating back.

“Decaf for you this afternoon,” Ianto muttered ominously under his breath.

Jack had to clench his teeth over a laugh.

“Coming?” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for his office. Ianto came after him a moment later, carrying his own coffee and the plate of biscuits. Jack helped himself to two before Ianto even had a chance to set the plate down on the desk.

“So you really do need a butler.” Ianto glanced around his office, nose wrinkling a little as he took in the clutter.

Jack had never let the mess bother him before; he was too busy trying to maintain the rift and save Cardiff from random alien threats to worry about cleaning. But now he took it in through a stranger’s eyes and actually felt kind of sheepish.

“Truthfully, I need about a dozen roles filled—general duties, administration, there’s the tourist office and the archives, the vaults when we’re holding guests—so take your pick.”

Ianto’s brow creased. “If you don’t mind me asking, if you need so much done, why were you so set against giving me a job?”

Jack released a short sigh and laced his fingers on top of his desk, debating how truthful to be.

“You’re Torchwood One,” he finally said. “We do things differently here. We don’t kill aliens to scavenge their tech for Queen and Country. We help those we can and secure the tech that’s too dangerous or too advanced for this century. I couldn’t be sure you weren’t completely indoctrinated to the ideals of Yvonne Hartman.”

He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice or the disgust from his expression as he said the woman’s name. He’d loathed her even before she’d brought about the destruction of Canary Wharf and almost the end of the world. He didn’t have one iota of sympathy for what had happened to her, especially because Rose Tyler—

A lump swelled in his throat, the same lump he always got when he thought about Rose, and he took a deep mouthful of coffee to wash it down.

As far as he was concerned, Yvonne Hartman had brought the terrible fate on herself. Unfortunate that she’d taken over eight hundred of her employees with her. And even though it was giving credence to the darker parts of himself, he was glad that all remained of Torchwood One was twenty-seven survivors whom he’d made sure to cut all ties with. He couldn’t risk anyone who still believed in Yvonne Hartman’s vision trying to start all over again. Which was why he’d been adamant about keeping Ianto Jones as far away from his small team as possible.

“What changed your mind?” Ianto asked quietly.

“The pterodactyl.” He nodded his head toward his office window, even though the dinosaur was nowhere in sight—probably up in the huge old overflow pipe where he’d tossed branches and bales of straw for her to make a nest. “That’s when I realised you weren’t like most Torchwood One employees. You never once suggested we should kill her. You brought chocolate of all things. You put yourself in harm’s way to save her.”

Ianto ducked his head, staring down at the mug in his hands. “I didn’t ever like that about Torchwood One. They never stopped to question anything. It just didn’t seem right—”

He broke off, shadows in his blue gaze, and Jack could only imagine what he was remembering. Jack closed his hands around his mug, resisting the urge to reach across the desk and clasp Ianto’s hand. Something about the young man drew him, stirred his interest. But now that Ianto was going to work for him, he would keep his distance—mostly. A bit of harmless flirting was definitely on the cards, but he’d had workplace affairs before, and none of them ever turned out well. Especially the last one with Lucia. That recollection was definitely enough to curb his enthusiasm. He shut down the memory and drew open one of his desk draws, pulling out the paperwork they’d need to fill in for Ianto’s employment.

“This will probably take most of the morning to get through.” Jack set the stack on the desk and Ianto immediately sat forward, putting his coffee aside.

Before Jack could say anything else, however, the rift alarm went off.

Ianto glanced up in surprise.

“Rift alarm,” Jack told him as he jumped up and grabbed his coat from the stand at his office doorway. “You make a start on that, I’ll get back when I can.”

He barely waited for Ianto to nod before hurrying out into the main section of the hub.

“Tosh! What have we got?”

Tosh was tapping away at her computer, gaze darting between multiple screens. “Rift spike over Tremorfa Park. No life signs, but something definitely came through. I’m detecting low levels of radiation.”

“You’re with us, Tosh, in case we need anything disarmed or dismantled. Let’s go!”

He glanced up as he hustled the team toward the garage where the SUV was parked. Ianto had come to stand in the doorway of his office, watching them go. Jack sent him a wave, which Ianto returned with a small one of his own, looking a little concerned. This, however, was an ever-other-day thing for them. He’d have to explain the rift and all it entailed once they got back. But for right now, he had some alien tech to secure.

*******

The team were in a mood by the time they got back to the hub. Not long after they’d stepped out of the SUV at Tremorfa Park, it’d started raining heavily. The radiation coming off the tech was making the residual rift energy fade a lot quicker than it usually would have and by the time they’d trekked to the location Tosh thought the item should have landed, the signal had become too indefinite to pinpoint.

They’d had to combe the area the old-fashioned way, steadily getting wetter and muddier until they’d finally found it; no bigger than fob watch, the outer-casing cracked. Jack hadn’t bothered examining it to work out what they were dealing with, simply sealed it in the containment box to save them being exposed to anymore radiation, even though Tosh said levels weren’t dangerous—yet. By the time they arrived back at the hub, it was after lunch.

They filed in, mumbling about dry clothes and needing something to eat. Jack pulled up short, however, as something delicious smelling reached his nose. Ianto came out of the conference room on the upper level.

“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of getting some soup for lunch,” he called down, making the others pause as well. “I figured you’d need it after being out in the rain all morning.”

Tosh and Suzie said they wanted to get changed first, but Owen headed straight for the stairs. Jack took a moment to shrug out of his coat—which had mostly kept him dry—and noticed the hub looked markedly cleaner than when they’d left earlier.

He bounded up the stairs, walking in to find Owen already well into his meal. There was crusty bread to go with the soup and another round of coffee waiting on a tray. Once again, Ianto handed him the blue and white striped mug.

“Ianto Jones, I could kiss you!” He shivered as he brought the mug up to his lips.

“Please don’t,” Owen put in. “Some of us are trying to eat.”

“And I do believe that would be considered harassment, sir,” Ianto returned in a perfectly calm and even voice, only the tiniest hint of amusement to his expression giving away the fact he wasn’t serious.

Ah, there it was. A glimpse of the Ianto he’d seen last night when they’d been wrangling the pterodactyl.

“You’ve had a busy morning, I see,” he murmured, unable to resist the temptation to shift slightly closer, into Ianto’s personal space.

The other man didn’t move back, but inclined his head a little. “Made a start around the workstations. If it’s alright with you, I’ll go on with your office next. It’s filthy, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy a challenge.”

Jack eyed him closely. The words seemed innocent enough, but there was something— Was Ianto actually flirting with him?

“Don’t go getting too dirty, all on your own in there.” He leaned in a little, knowing he was pushing the boundaries but unable to help himself. He wanted to see how far Ianto would go with this. “Of course, I could always give you a hand.”

A knowing smile kicked up the edges of Ianto’s lips, and Jack's heart actually skipped a beat in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had managed to do _that_ to him.

“I’ll keep your hand in mind, sir. I’m sure it’ll make the task much easier. Now, if you don’t need anything else for the moment?”

 _Oh damn_ , he was done for. Before he could come up with a suitable reply, Ianto had retrieved the empty tray and left the conference room. Jack watched him go, gaze sliding down to his ass in those trousers, perfectly outlined since he’d discarded his suit jacket earlier when he’d taken on the coffee machine.

“Jack,” Owen said in a long-suffering voice. “Don’t shag the help. It’s too cliché, even for you.”

“I wasn’t—” he started, but his voice sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. Instead he pointed a finger at Owen. “Shut up and eat your lunch.”

Jack dropped down to sit at the conference table and pulled over a bowl of soup, then snatched up some bread as Tosh and Suzie walked in. Ianto Jones was proving to be more temptation than he’d bargained for. But it didn’t signify. What mattered was whether or not he was going to fit in with the team and adapt to the admittedly ramshackle way Torchwood Three operated—a world apart from the bureaucratic procedures and office politics of Torchwood One.

Considering the amazing coffee, the hot lunch waiting for them after a miserable morning out tracking alien tech, and the already neater appearance of the hub, Jack was beginning to think that giving Ianto Jones a job had been the best decision he’d made in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Six days in and Ianto had already fallen into a new routine. The hub was as spotless as he was going to get it, and somehow his cleaning duties had extended to the SUV. He’d regulated the team’s day somewhat around coffee and meals. He’d tidied and reorganised the tourist office so that it was actually functional and the second day he’d started answering the phone and taking Jack’s messages for him. The third day he’d gotten a glimpse of Jack’s “filing” system in the cabinet behind his desk and his head had nearly exploded. That had taken an entire day to sort out on its own.

The fourth day while Ianto had been filing paper work for the previous week _properly_ , Jack had been muttering something about the computer that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, so Ianto had simply leaned over his shoulder and fixed it for him. Jack had demanded to know how he could do that, then sent him to spend the afternoon with Tosh to determine exactly how good his computer skills were—excellent, even if he did say so himself. Though Tosh, he’d quickly realised, was an outright genius. He could do a lot, but she could do practically _anything_.

Later, when he’d been bringing the afternoon’s coffees, he’d overheard Tosh giving Jack a report about his skills, and Jack had seemed very impressed.

The fifth day, Ianto had taken a call from someone in Whitehall urgently needing to change a scheduled phone conference the following week, but Jack hadn’t been there, so Ianto had checked his diary and found it as unorganised as he’d expected it to be. He’d re-scheduled the conference on Jack’s behalf and then taken the liberty of re-organising what nearly amounted to Jack’s entire life for the coming weeks so that it should all run much more smoothly. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done for Yvonne, and considering all the other tasks he’d taken on around the hub, this didn’t seem like too much of an assumption on his part. If Jack noticed, he never said anything about it. He'd ended up making his own personal Jack-schedule on his PDA that he could refer to himself so he could remind the captain of whatever meetings or tasks he had coming up.

Every night he’d gone home, Lisa had asked him if he’d managed to get into the archives yet and every night he had to tell her no. He didn’t want to ask outright to see the archives, because it might seem suspicious. The archives at Torchwood One had been a closely guarded secret and very few people had access to them.

But almost a week had gone by already, and he while he hadn’t made any progress on getting into the archives, Lisa had gradually gotten worse. His days were beginning to contrast starkly with his nights. At the flat with Lisa, it was all dark and worry and the heaviness of Lisa’s life in his hands. But he didn’t let her see how any of it weighed on him. He stayed strong, he told her amusing stories as he got to know the team, he talked about what they’d do when this was all over, he comforted her when she cried and told him it was all too much. He never once let her see any cracks in his façade.

And then there was his days. The days were filled with light and the occasional laugh and the _flirting_. Innocent enough, but deeply suggestive and he didn’t really even know how it had started or when he’d decided to go along with it. At first maybe he’d assumed that Jack treated everyone that way—it was what the rumours around Torchwood One concerning the captain had suggested, after all. Except a few days in and after a blatantly suggestive round between them—because Jack seemed to enjoy seeing how far he could push the boundaries and where Ianto would push back—he’d noticed Owen and Suzie standing off to the side, watching them and talking between themselves. He’d told himself he needed to pull things back a little, but he also couldn’t seem to help himself.

Despite the guilt it brought because he loved Lisa deeply and was only here to find the means to save her, he had to admit, if only to himself, he was attracted to Jack in a way he’d never been attracted to anyone.

Jack almost made him forget everything outside of the hub and he needed that. It felt terrible to admit, but to be able to cope with going home and facing Lisa, he need that little bit of Jack’s attention. Needed to see that gleam Jack would get in his blue eyes. The intensity in which Jack would focus on him, or the surprise followed by pleasure that would cross Jack’s face whenever he said or did something the other man didn’t expect.

Still, it was all a façade, albeit a different one he wore at home, because with his ulterior motive for getting this job, he’d been deceiving Jack from the moment they’d met. And the more he got to know of the team—even Owen who was okay most of the time with his biting sense of humour, but who could also be an absolute wanker—Ianto had started feeling worse and worse about the fact he was using them and going to steal information from them as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

He’d realised that the longer this dragged on, the harder it was going to be. So he kept himself somewhat separate, which wasn’t too hard considering they all treated him like the butler he’d told Jack he could be that night in the warehouse with the pterodactyl. He avoided any conversations that went anywhere near being personal and the one night they’d asked him to go out and get a drink with them after work, he’d made his excuses and gone home to Lisa.

He just had to remember this was all about Lisa. Which was why he needed to find someway to get into the archives sooner rather than later. 

As he was clearing away the leftovers and dishes from morning tea, he caught the end of a conversation between Suzie and Tosh, Jack standing nearby listening. They were still examining the small device they’d found the first day he’d been here. It’d taken a few days for Tosh to work out how to contain the radiation before Suzie could start working on it.

“No, but I’m sure it was exactly the same,” Suzie was saying. “Just a bit bigger.”

“And when do you think this was?” Jack asked as he shoved the last of a pastry in his mouth. Ianto watched in exasperation as a waterfall of flakes cascaded to the floor at his feet.

“Maybe three years ago,” Suzie replied. “I think it came through with a whole bunch of other stuff and we just shoved it all away in the archives and said we’d come back to it later, but never did.”

“Any idea where it might be, Jack?” Tosh asked hopefully.

Jack gave a rueful shake of his head. “It could be anywhere, Tosh, sorry.”

Tosh sighed, sharing a reluctant look with Suzie. “No hope for it, one of us is going to have to go down into the archives to look for it.”

Owen scoffed from where he’d been shooting the plastic gun of the arcade game. “Good luck with that. See you sometime next week.”

“I could go,” Ianto offered, hoping he didn’t sound too eager as everyone paused to look at him in surprise. “I mean, if you want. I did have some access to the archives at Torchwood One, being a junior researcher and all.”

Jack pushed off from where he’d been leaning against his office door way. “Ah Ianto, you have no idea the rabbit hole you’ve just volunteered to disappear down.”

Jack walked over and clasped him on the shoulder briefly. “Come with me.”

The others were all staring at him with varying levels of sympathy—well, not so much Owen. He just seemed to be highly amused. Was there some big secret about the Torchwood Three archives that no one outside the hub knew about?

Jack led him over to the door that went down to the archives and vaults. He’d been in the vaults a few times since he’d taken over feeding the guests, but he hadn’t dared go through the doorway that led to the archives, not knowing what kind of CCTV or security Jack might have in there.

As they walked along the corridor, Ianto’s stomach got tighter, nerves winding like a spring within him. This was it; his chance to start searching for the information he needed… if Jack would leave him alone down here.

They stepped into a room that was a kind of office with a computer and desk, as well as some shelves that were overflowing with random stuff, including a dead plant.

“That’s the computer connected to the independent server with all the archive records stored on it.” Jack didn’t pause but kept leading him through another door. “And this is the Torchwood Three archives.”

Ianto didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was not _this_. Though, why he was surprised when the hub had been in such a state a mere week ago, he had no idea. It was chaos. Absolute, unmitigated chaos. Things were stuffed in all over the place in no discernible order. At least the items appeared tagged, though whether or not they’d then been entered into the computer in any sort of system was anyone’s guess.

“Oh. My. God,” he uttered, not sure what the hell he was supposed to do with this.

“There are several more room like this one,” Jack said from where he was stood next to him with his hands in his pockets like they weren’t standing in the archival equivalent of the apocalypse.

Several more rooms like this one? But this room was huge. Were they all in this state?

“How do you ever find _anything_?” He knew he sounded dumbfounded, but he couldn’t help it.

“Most of this stuff I put down here, so I have a vague idea of where it might be a lot of the time. And once, a long time ago there was a decent archivist looking after it all, so the really old sections aren’t bad. But, yeah, sometimes it takes us a while to dig things out.”

He turned to look at Jack. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. Someone needs to do something about this. No wonder you never wanted to let Yvonne down here.”

He didn’t realise he’d slipped up until Jack’s gaze sharpened on him. “What do you know about Yvonne?”

“Not much,” he replied quickly, turning his attention back to the mess. It was easier to lie to Jack when he wasn’t looking directly at him. “Just office gossip, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, still sounding a little suspicious.

“So the device Suzie and Tosh were talking about?” He was blatantly trying to redirect Jack’s attention and hoping the man didn’t realise what he was doing.

“If it was three years ago, it should be over this way.” Jack nodded his head off to the side and then led Ianto down some rows of shelves and pointed along an aisle. “Its kind of in chronological order, if nothing else. Anything we brought in three years ago would have been put in this area.”

“Maybe while I’m looking, I can assess how much work needs to be done to put it to rights,” he replied, taking in the thick layer of dust. Bloody hell, he was wearing one of his favourite suits today, not having anticipated doing any heavy-duty cleaning.

“Ianto.”

He turned to find Jack had shifted closer and reached out to clasp his arm. “Are you sure you want to take this on as well? In less than a week you’ve already made yourself indispensable to myself and the team. Things are running more smoothly in the hub than any time since I’ve worked for Torchwood.”

“Really?” He didn’t think he’d done that much. Just made little improvements where he’d seen fit and managed a few things that had clearly been left to the wayside for a long time.

“Yes, really,” Jack replied, as serious as Ianto had seen him since the first day he’d set foot in the hub. Usually it was all jokes and flirting. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re the first one here and the last one to leave. You don’t have to prove anything, Ianto. The job is yours, I’m not going to take it away from you.” Jack grinned at him. “At this point I don’t think I could. The rest of the team would kill me if I cut them off from your coffee supply.”

Ianto glanced away from him. The truth was, he came in first and left last because it was easier being here than at the flat with Lisa, despite the deception and distance he was keeping from them all.

“If it’s all the same, sir, I actually would like to take on the archives. I’d enjoy it immensely. It’s what I’m good at.”

Jack sent him a fond smile that held a hint of exasperation. “I get the feeling you’re good at everything, Ianto Jones.”

After Jack said the words, his smile turned suggestive, and Ianto had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jack backed away from him, like he’d suddenly decided to leave before Ianto could change his mind. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I’ll be fine, sir,” he replied distractedly. More than fine. He’d be in his element. If Jack really let him start reorganising the archives, it was going to solve all of his problems. First, that he’d be able to search for anything that might help Lisa without the worry of being discovered and secondly, it would be that much easier to avoid the team and keep to himself.

He slipped his jacket off and rolled up his shirt-sleeves. Before he did anything, he had a device to find for Tosh and Suzie.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack had his attention directed upward, watching the pterodactyl circle the heights of the water tower. He’d been training the dinosaur with a specific tone through his vortex manipulator. She’d been cooped up in here for a few weeks now, and though he was happy she’d taken care of the pest problem—other birds who’d nested high in the pipes where he couldn’t shoo them out and the occasional rat that found its way up from the sewers—feeding her was becoming a problem. Not to mention the mess she left.

Tonight was a test of sorts that was going to determine whether his training had paid off. He was going to let her go free—she had a tracking device on her, so it wasn’t like he’d lose her. But the question was whether she’d return when he used the sonic recall on his wrist strap, or if he’d be out tomorrow catching her yet again. Considering how things had gone down last time he’d caught her, he didn’t think it’d necessarily be a bad thing. Especially if he convinced Ianto to come with him.

As if his thoughts alone had summoned him, Jack heard the familiar noise of Ianto politely clearing his throat to get his attention from behind him.

“I’m about to head out for the night, sir. Is there anything you’d like before I leave, another coffee maybe?”

He turned to look at Ianto, beckoning him over to where he stood on the metal gangway, leaning against the railing.

“I’m glad you’re still here. I want you to see this.”

Ianto slid his hands in his pockets and ambled over, expression curious.

“Watch.” Jack motioned to where the pterodactyl was soaring high above them. He pressed a button on his wrist strap and then a grate in the roof opened. The pterodactyl didn’t waste any time, immediately altering her course and swooping through it to freedom.

“You’re letting Myfanwy go?” Ianto asked, sounding aghast.

“Myfanwy?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow.

Ianto looked somewhat abashed, a light shade of red colouring his cheeks. “Sorry, it’s what I’d taken to calling her in the last couple of weeks. A bit of a joke, actually. Myfanwy is a Welsh goddess who was known to sing beautifully, so I named the pteranodon that on account of that God-awful screech she makes sometimes—you know the one that rattles your teeth?”

 _Pteranodon, huh?_ Ianto always had to be so correct in every little detail. He couldn’t help smiling. “I like it. Myfanwy it is.”

Ianto sent him a light glare. “Only if you learn how to pronounce it correctly.”

“What? I’m not that bad.”

Ianto’s expression said otherwise. “And so how are you planning on getting our pet dinosaur back again?”

Jack tapped his vortex manipulator. “I’ve been training her to respond to a specific tone on this. I’m going to give her an hour, then see if she comes back when I recall her with the sound.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Ianto crossed his arms, not seeming very impressed with his plan.

“Then you and I get to recreate the romance of our first date all over again.” He froze after the words spilled out, looking at Ianto to gauge his reaction. Neither of them had mentioned what had almost happened on the floor of the warehouse that night, though Jack knew Ianto must have been as aware of it as he had. He was sure it hadn’t just been his imagination—that for a second there, it’d crossed both their minds—the undeniable temptation to seal their mouths together in what he’d guessed would have been one hell of a kiss.

“And I thought the weevil in the park with both of us bleeding the first night we met was a far more romantic setting,” Ianto drawled without directly meeting his eyes.

Jack laughed, mostly in relief. “Let’s just agree that they were both rather memorable.”

A small, reserved smile played over Ianto’s lips, leaving him wondering what the man was thinking about.

“So, what are you doing for the next hour?” he asked impulsively.

“Well, I _was_ heading home. It is quite late. But I can make a coffee for you before I leave if you want.”

“Don’t you want to wait around, see if Myfanwy comes back when I call her?” Jack shifted closer, bumping his shoulder into Ianto’s.

He’d always been the type of person to enjoy touch—giving and receiving—but the last few weeks, it’d been getting steadily harder to rein in his impulse to touch Ianto. Nothing inappropriate or uncomfortable—he hoped. But small grazes. A hand on his arm or shoulder, brushing close against him when Ianto walked by or was pottering around in his office, sliding his fingers along Ianto’s whenever he took a mug of coffee from him. And it seemed Ianto didn’t mind. If anything, he felt like the other man was subtly encouraging him. Jack was enjoying every second of it, even as he sternly reminded himself over and over that workplace relationships of any kind were a bad, bad idea.

It was probably lucky that Ianto had been spending so much time down in the archives lately, putting him out of Jack’s sight most of the day and removing the lure of temptation. Jack hadn’t been back down there since the first day he’d shown the archives to Ianto.

Two days later when they’d retrieved some space junk, Ianto had haughtily told them from now on no one was allowed to just go and “shove things in willy-nilly” and that he would take care of it. Just like that, the archives had become Ianto’s domain and no one questioned it. In fact, Jack was still amazed at how seamlessly Ianto had taken over so much of the hub’s general operations in such a short amount of time and no one had said anything. Probably because it had freed up the team to do the projects and tasks they’d rather be doing—the jobs he’d hired them for. He’d even found out the day before that at some point, Suzie had delegated handling the dead bodies and helping Tosh cover up alien or rift-related deaths to Ianto as well. He'd had half a moment’s pause over it—that maybe it was a touch too much they’d all heaped onto Ianto’s plate. Plus it took a certain type of personality to be able to deal with dead bodies. Yet Ianto hadn’t said anything about it and was apparently just as proficient with the dead as he had been with every other task.

Ianto was looking up at where Myfanwy had disappeared a few minutes ago, before glancing at his watch, a slight frown drawing down his features, as if there was something weighing on his mind.

“I suppose I could spare another hour,” he finally replied, a hint of reluctance in his tone.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Jack teased. “What’s wrong, got someone waiting at home for you?”

Ianto’s eyes widened, something close to panic flashing across his features, which made no sense in the context of the conversation they were having. But it was gone so fast, Jack wonder if he’d simply imagined it.

“No,” Ianto replied quickly, now avoiding his gaze altogether. “I was just working out how many hours sleep I’m likely to get before I’m back in the morning.”

Jack caught his shoulder. “Here’s an idea. Don’t come in at the crack of dawn. Keep regular hours like the others do.”

“They like their coffee ready when they arrive and the archives—”

“Aren’t going anywhere. There’s plenty of time to fix them. During office hours.” He appreciated a diligent worker, but Ianto gave more than that, like he personally cared about Torchwood nearly as much as Jack did. The intensity in which he’d focused on his work around the hub was impressive. Owen could probably learn a thing or two from Ianto. Not that he’d ever say it to the often-surly doctor.

“Right, I think you said something about coffee,” he said when Ianto didn’t say anything.

“Of course, I’ll bring it to your office,” Ianto replied, slipping into what Jack had come to think of as butler-mode.

He started to walk off, but Jack called after him, “are there any of those chocolate biscuits left or did Owen eat them all?”

Ianto glanced back with a sly smile. “I may have hidden a few.”

“And that, Ianto Jones, is why you’re my favourite employee.”

Ianto seemed pleased, if not a little flustered by the compliment. “Just don’t tell the others, there’s sure to be a mutiny.”

“With your coffee supply in the balance? They wouldn’t dare.” Jack winked at him and then made his way up to his office, sitting behind his desk and enjoying the now familiar sounds of Ianto in the kitchenette making the coffee.

Though he shouldn’t really have favourites, it was hard not to think Ianto was exactly that. He was quick witted, had a fantastically dry sense of humour and a comeback no matter what was said. He’d become scarily adept at anticipating what Jack needed and when he needed it. A few times Ianto had even managed to provide him with things _before_ he’d realized what he wanted. Added to that his intelligence, patience, considerate and kind nature, he was exactly what Jack had needed and hadn’t even realised he was missing at Torchwood Three. The fact that he was utterly gorgeous—those blue eyes, that dark hair, and that ass in those suit trousers he wore every day—Jack knew he’d been completely taken by Ianto, even if the man didn’t realise it.

And now that he’d so effortlessly taken control of the archives—indeed he seemed to thrive on it—Jack was wondering if he shouldn’t also let Ianto have control of the secure archives as well, where all the really dangerous items were stored, as well as some of Jack’s own private things. Including all the Torchwood files on himself from over a hundred years. It was a massive risk—no one had access to the secure archives except for him, not even Suzie as his second in charge. His gut instincts told him he could trust Ianto in a way he’d trusted few others in his long life time.

Besides, it only made sense that someone had access to those things in case something happened to him and he wasn’t around any longer. In fact, he’d been aware that it was a massive oversight on his behalf not to have let anyone else in on the deeper, darker secrets of Torchwood Three. Suddenly, he was desperate to share the burden. Was it too much to hope Ianto could handle all of it? He was jumping the gun, however. One steps at a time. Maybe the secure archives would be a good test—see how he handled that and then decide about everything else.

Ianto walked into his office, carrying the tray with two coffees and the prized chocolate biscuits. He set it down on Jack’s neat desk and handed over the blue and white stripe mug, even though Jack could have quite easily reached over and taken it himself. As usual, their fingers brushed and lingered.

Gathering his own coffee, Ianto took a sip but then winced slightly.

“Too hot?” he asked. Unusual, because Ianto always served it as the perfect temperature.

“No, it’s decaf.” Ianto shuddered as if it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Jack couldn’t help grinning as he took a deep sip of his own coffee. “Why would you subject yourself to that?”

“If I drink the usual brew at this time of night, I’ll never sleep.”

“Good point,” he murmured in return.

Curiosity flitted across Ianto’s features. “What about you? I make you an industrial strength coffee nearly every night before I leave. Doesn’t it keep you awake?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t need much sleep.”

Reaching across, he and Ianto went for the same biscuit as the same time, ending with their hands colliding. They both laughed and Jack took the opportunity to tangle his fingers with Ianto’s.

“If you wanted to hold hands, you should have just said so.”

Ianto dropped his gaze, his laugh a little more self-conscious this time. “Can’t say I’ve ever held hands with a man before.”

A flare of heat through his body made his stomach flip over. “Maybe you should try it sometime. You might find you like it.”

Ianto brought his gaze up, clearly cottoning on to the fact they weren’t talking about holding hands any longer.

“The thought has crossed my mind a few times in the last couple of weeks,” Ianto replied quietly, as if he were unsure whether or not he should be admitting such a thing.

They were straying into dangerous territory, but Jack couldn’t seem to rein himself in.

“Well, if the mood ever strikes you to try it, I’d happily volunteer to be a willing participant.”

Ianto’s breath hitched and he glanced away, posture stiffening where he sat in the chair. “I should go, it’s getting late.”

He stood and set his half empty mug on the desk. Damn it, had he finally pushed Ianto too far? It’d been a blatant invitation, one he should have never extended and couldn’t take him up on anyway. When it came to Ianto, his intentions and actions were completely as odds.

However, when Ianto finally looked at him, he saw a hint of longing in his blue eyes that told him maybe Ianto wasn’t running away because he was freaked out or Jack had finally made him uncomfortable after weeks of heavy flirting. In fact, it seemed to be just the opposite.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good luck with Myfanwy.”

Before Jack could even say good night, Ianto had hurried out of his office. A few moments later, he heard the alarm of the cog wheel door, leaving him all alone in the hub.

Jack released a long breath and slouched back into his chair, cradling what was left of his coffee. He didn’t know what he was going to do with Ianto Jones. Oh, he knew what he _wanted_ to do with him. But somehow, he had to find a way to curtail the building sparks between them. He needed Ianto as an employee of Torchwood Three more than he needed a decent shag. And he knew from experience that he couldn’t have both.


	5. Chapter 5

_Finally_. Ianto had found what he’d been looking for; the reason he’d come to work here, the one thing he’d been longing for over the past six weeks. It’d taken longer than he’d thought—first settling into the team and then gaining access to the archives. The archives themselves had been the biggest challenge. Trying to find anything in there had been an exercise in extreme frustration. Jack had said he’d known where most things were, vaguely. But it wasn’t like he could just go up to Jack and say “oh by the way, have you got anything on cyber conversion units down there? Mind pointing me in the right direction?”

He took the files to the small office he’d claimed as his own. Cleaning it up had been the first thing he’d done. It’d been a relief to find a space that was his alone. Here he could just be nothing—not the boyfriend and ex-Torchwood One employee desperate to save the woman he loved. Not the team member who cleaned up mess after mess without a single word about it. Not the provider of coffee and food. Not Jack’s flirtatious distraction. It was the smallest slice of something that was just him.

Flipping through the file, he glanced through the pages as he stopped at the desk. He’d have to copy each page carefully—he didn’t dare actually take the file, even though it would have been far easier. Doubtful anyone would randomly decide they needed information on cybermen and conversion units, but he didn’t want to take the chance it would be missed and raise questions. Jack had told him one of the first days here that no alien tech was allowed out of the hub without his express permission.

What Jack didn’t realise, however, was that Suzie, Tosh and Owen all regularly took things home with them—for after-hours work or private use, he supposed. Probably both. No doubt the others thought they’d been sufficiently sneaky about it, but they’d gotten into the habit of paying so little attention to Ianto, he was able to observe things they’d probably prefer to keep secret. Like the fact Owen and Suzie had slept together at least once, if not had some kind of affair going on. Meanwhile Tosh was half in love with Owen, who was completely oblivious about it. Ianto couldn’t understand what she saw in the guy, he was a total git.

When Owen wasn’t ignoring Ianto, he only ever had snarky commentary or sly comments about Jack’s attentions toward him—the lighter ones in front of Jack who mostly laughed them off, but the really snide ones were specially reserved for when Jack wasn’t around.

Suzie meanwhile, had heaped as much of her menial work onto him as possible, including dealing with the dead bodies they occasionally brought back to go in the extensive Torchwood morgue. She’d even had him go out on site several times. The last thing he’d wanted to do was deal with death after all the bodies he’d seen at Canary Wharf, but he didn’t dare say anything to Jack about it. He didn’t want to cause waves and give Jack reason to question his decision to employ him. He’d only been here a few weeks. If some kind of friction happened within the team and someone had to go, no doubt it would be him. The last thing he could afford to do was lose access to the hub and the archives, not when Lisa’s life was on the line. If he got fired, there would be no second chance and no way for him to save the woman he loved. Jack might have made that statement about Ianto being his favourite employee, but he only ever took fifty percent of what Jack said seriously.

Apart from giving him even more to do, Suzie mostly seemed fairly self-involved and almost obsessive about her projects. She also didn’t really like him tidying up too much around her area.  

Tosh seemed nice enough. He thought they could nearly be friends if he got to know her better, but he had his secrets to keep and didn’t plan on sticking around once Lisa was better. He couldn’t get attached to anyone here… even though he was starting to fear it was too late in that regard.

It’d been that first night Jack had let Myfanwy go free—successfully by all accounts. The pteranodon now came and went as she pleased, apart from the rare occasion when Jack called her back with the sonic recall on his wrist strap.

Neither of them had ever broached the subject of the days leading up to Ianto getting the job, especially that night on the warehouse floor. And when Jack had mentioned it, the floodgates had opened. He’d remembered how much he’d wanted to kiss Jack. Could no longer ignore how every day when he came into the hub, the first thing he wanted to see was Jack’s smile aimed his way. How so many nights he slept restlessly on the couch in his flat and longed for the almost addictive scent of Jack’s 51st century pheromones—if that’s what the aroma really was. Last week he’d woken in the middle of the night sweaty, panting, and harder than he could remember being in a long, long time, biting his lip over moaning Jack’s name from the intense dream he’d been having. Still half asleep, he’d brought himself off, all the while imagining it was Jack’s hands on him.

He was constantly at war with himself; guilt for feeling what had to simply be a physical attraction for anyone else when he loved Lisa and she was barely clinging to life. She’d gotten worse in the last few weeks, her periods of lucidness becoming shorter, the pain getting harder to control with what little medication he could get his hands on. He’d decided that next time Owen put in an order for medication—which Ianto would no doubt end up overseeing—he was going to fudge the figures on some heavy-duty pain meds for Lisa and pray he didn’t get caught.

That night he and Jack had watched Myfanwy soar free for the first time since they’d caught her, he’d wanted so desperately to tell Jack about Lisa, to ask him for help. He’d come to trust Jack, and though he knew the man would probably be unhappy to find a partially converted cyberman—woman—on his doorstep, he thought maybe Jack would help them if he asked. He’d been debating whether to bring it up with Lisa. Now that he’d found the information they needed, maybe it was time to broach his idea with her. If Jack helped them, this charade, the secrets would all be over. He wouldn’t need to copy and steal this file. The relief he knew he’d feel once the burden was lifted almost made him want to tell Jack without consulting Lisa first.

“Well, this is a change. I can hardly believe I’m standing in the same room.”

Ianto dropped the file on cybermen to the desk and shuffled it beneath some other things before turning to face Jack, hoping he didn’t appear too flustered… or guilty.

“Something you wanted, sir?” He shifted to stand directly in front of where he’d hidden the papers he so desperately needed.

“You missed the usual mid-morning coffee. It’s almost lunchtime. Thought I better come down here and make sure you hadn’t gotten buried in an avalanche of poorly shelved alien junk.”

Ianto checked his watch and swore under his breath. He’d realised earlier that he might have been closing in on the cybermen file and had forgotten about anything else in favour of finding it.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll come right up—” He started to step forward but Jack cut him off and stopped him by planting a hand in the middle of his chest.

“I told them they can go out and get it for a change. No harm in the occasional takeaway cup of coffee. Besides, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Jack’s hand was still lightly resting on his chest; the heat of his palm burning through the material of his shirt. He stifled a shiver as he shifted back, putting himself out of reaching range, pulse picking up speed as he wondered what Jack could possibly want to talk to him about.

“Don’t look so worried,” Jack said with a hint of amusement. “It’s nothing serious—well, maybe serious, but not bad.”

“Okay,” he replied, knowing that he sounded dubious about it.

Jack motioned to the chair by the desk. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He did as Jack had suggested and then watched with trepidation as Jack came over to perch on the edge of the desk almost right where he’d hidden the file. After a moment, he looked up to see Jack regarding him with a half-smile and an arch of his eyebrow, leaving Ianto to belatedly realise it’d probably looked like he was staring at Jack’s arse.

“I was just—” he motioned to the desk. “My paperwork.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack returned drily, crossing his arms.

“So, what did you want to discuss?” he asked pointedly, trying to get Jack’s seemingly one-track mind onto the issue at hand… unless that was the issue he wanted to discuss. The— _whatever_ —between them. His heart skipped and he had to resist rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of his trousers.

“I’m impressed with what you’ve done here in the archives so far, along with all the other work you’ve taken on. I’ve been down here a few nights after you’ve left, and you’ve definitely got a knack for organising things—though that was already apparent considering how smoothly things around the hub are running these days.”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied automatically, relieved that the topic wasn’t anything of a personal nature after all.

“I’m not sure if you realise, but these aren’t the only archives in the hub.”

“The secure archives,” he answered immediately, but then wondered if he should have played dumb. He’d observed Jack secreting a few things away into the portal in his office and quickly figured out what they must be. Except he didn’t know if he should inadvertently be admitting to his powers of observation.

But Jack just nodded with a smile, like he wasn’t surprised. “No one else has access to them other than me.”  

“Makes sense, considering the type of things I imagine are stored in there.” There’d been secure archives at Torchwood One as well, and only Yvonne and two other people had been able to access them.

“I’ve decided to implement a new policy,” Jack said, watching him closely. “I want you to take over the secure archives as well. I’m sorry, they’re probably in no better condition than the general archives. They’ll need sorting out.”

Ah, so this was about Jack giving him even more work. Still, maybe there was more information in the secure archives about cybermen. Or tech he was going to need to help Lisa.

“Of course, sir. And you can count on my discretion.” He could only guess that if Suzie or Owen found out he now had access to parts of the hub denied to them when he’d only been here a few weeks, it would cause that friction he’d been trying so hard to avoid.

“Great!” Jack jumped to his feet, seeming pleased with himself. “Come up to my office and I’ll give you the codes now.”

He pushed slowly to his feet. “The others—”

“Owen and Tosh went out for coffee and Suzie is so deep in her work I doubt she’d notice if the hub fell down around her.”

Jack didn’t give him a chance to reply, but went striding off in that way that said he expected to be followed. Ianto glanced at where he’d conceal the file, fingers all but itching to start copying the pages right away. He had all afternoon to start on them—as long as he didn’t forget the mid-afternoon coffees and cause Jack come looking for him again. He was so close to getting what he needed. It was more critical than ever he tread carefully.

*******

It was late when Ianto let himself into the flat that night after he’d spent hours painstakingly copying the pages, even as he processed the information in his mind and started working out what he’d need and exactly how he was going to pull this off.

He hurried straight through to the bedroom. Lisa was sleeping but restless. He checked the equipment and her vital signs, not happy with some of the readings. But it would be okay, they were nearly there.

“Ianto?” Lisa’s voice was drowsy and he moved around a stack of equipment so she could see him without needing to turn her head.

“How are you feeling?” He always asked, and she always gave him an answer than landed somewhere between the truth and what she thought he wanted to hear.

“Not too bad. A bit more sleepy than usual.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, something he rarely did because he didn’t want to jostle her. Taking her hand, he could see the concerned expression that crossed her face.

“I found it, Lisa. The file in the archives on cybermen. It’s got a comprehensive study of the conversion units included in it.”

“Oh, Ianto, thank God.” She took a ragged breath, a tear slipping down her cheek.

He reached out and gently used his thumb to wipe the moisture away. “I copied the pages. We can go over it together. I’ll make sure I come home early tomorrow evening, then we can start planning what we need and how I’m going to get it here. I’ve checked and it looks like everything we’ll need is stored in the archives.”

She stared at him, sorrow in her gaze instead of the relief or excitement he’d expected.

“I thought you’d be happy about this,” he whispered in confusion.

“I am, really, I am. But I don’t think bringing the equipment here and setting it up will work any longer.”

His heart stuttered and he tightened his hold on her hand. “What do you mean?”

She glanced away from him, more tears trickling down her cheeks. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to worry. But I’m getting worse, Ianto.”

“I know,” he replied. And he did, even though he’d been denying it. Even though he wasn’t here for hours on end while he was at the hub. It’d been easier not to think about it, rather than panicking over what she was going through while he couldn’t be home to help her. “But we’re not giving up, remember? I know we can do this—”

She shook her head, returning her gaze to him. “I think its beyond that, now, you and I doing it on our own. Not if we’re going to save me.”

 _Jack_. He had to tell Jack. Tonight. Maybe now. If he went back to the hub, explained everything, surely Jack would understand.

“It’s okay. I’ve wanted to do this for weeks now,” he told her, relief already swamping him at just the thought of telling Jack. At not needing to lie to him any longer. Despite trying to keep himself isolated, he’d come to admire Jack, like him even. It’d gotten harder to tell himself he didn’t care about how left out or on the outside of the team he felt. He’d done it on purpose, of course, but no one had even tried to get around the barriers he’d put up, and he couldn’t help feeling a little resentful of it, especially considering everything he did for them. Sure, they’d asked him to join them for after-work drinks a few times in his first two weeks, but he’d kept refusing and then they’d stopped asking.

Jack had seemingly—albeit poorly—attempted to have an earnest conversation with him once or twice. But it’d been clear that it hadn’t really been Jack’s thing, and he’d been suspicious of Jack’s motivations anyway. After rebuffing him a few times, Jack had given up and seemed to feel more comfortable with things staying the way they were. They flirted, and Jack kept giving him more work to do, as if that was some kind of reward for the work he was already doing. But nobody really cared to get to know him and didn’t go out of their way to include him. It was dumb, wanting to connect with people he’d been planning to screw over and then flee from. Except maybe things didn’t have to turn out that way. Maybe if Jack helped Lisa, then he could keep his position at Torchwood Three while she healed. Maybe once she was better, they could find something for her to do around the hub as well. Maybe they could actually have a future here together.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked, pulling him from the thoughts and plans reshaping in his mind.

“Telling Jack. It’s the right thing to do. He’ll help us—”

“No!” Lisa replied vehemently, almost angry. “You can’t tell him, Ianto. He won’t want to help me, he’ll want to kill me!”

“Lisa.” He stroked the back of her hand, trying to calm her, surprised at her outburst. “Jack is a good man. I’m sure I can make him see reason. He wouldn’t kill you.”

“We can’t take that risk, Ianto. You understand why, don’t you? Please, you can’t tell him.” Her expression wasn’t panicked so much as cold and angry. One he’d never seen on her face before. It left him uneasy in a way he couldn't put his finger on. 

“Okay, it’s fine. I won’t tell him,” he assured her, his hopes of unburdening himself to Jack and giving up all the secrecy withering and dying. “But, Lisa, what are we going to do?”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think first, we need to get me into the hub.”

“What?” He shook his head, shocked and not understanding. “Lisa, you can barely even sit up. How am I going to get you into the hub? And why would I even take you there? If you don’t want Jack to find out, that’s the last place you should be.”

“Because, Ianto. It’ll be easier on you. Think about it. You’re there ten to fourteen hours every day. If I’m there too, it’ll weigh less on you, because I know you feel guilty for all the hours you’ve spent away from me.”

He couldn’t believe she was suggesting this. Yes, it made sense, but it was also going to make things so much riskier. “But the conversion unit—”

“Will be easier to build in the hub, instead of smuggling equipment back here. Technically you won’t even be stealing it if it doesn’t leave Torchwood Three. You’ll just be repurposing it. Anyway, the energy requirements are going to be massive. The wiring in this flat wouldn’t cope with it. And even if you plugged the unit into every socket in the building, it still wouldn’t be enough.”

He gave a grim laugh and then lifted her fingers to his lips. “You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?”

She sent him a tremulous smile. “You’re doing so much trying to save me. Someone has to look after you, don’t they?”

For some reason, Jack flashed into his mind and he had to drop his gaze as the thought was followed by a stinging wave of guilt. Keeping a secret about Lisa and smuggling a few files out of the hub was one thing, but having Lisa hidden away in the bowels of the archives was so much riskier and a much bigger betrayal of Jack’s trust. One he didn’t want to undertake. But this was Lisa’s life in the balance. He couldn’t refuse her. Besides, she was right. This way he’d be able to see her much more often. And if she really was getting worse, he couldn’t risk leaving her alone for hours on end like he had been the last few weeks. She’d need closer monitoring for any changes.

“If you’re sure?”

She squeezed his hand weakly. “I’m sure.”

He kissed her fingers once more and then gently set her hand down. “Get some sleep. We’ll start planning our reverse jail break tomorrow.”

She sent him a wide smile, one he hadn’t seen for a long time. If he had any doubts, that expression right there chased them all away. He gave her the nightly dose of medicine and then left her quickly falling asleep, their conversation having worn her out.

He didn’t let himself think about anything as he got ready for bed, but once he was lying down and staring at the darkened ceiling, listening to the whooshing and whirring of the equipment in the bedroom, he couldn’t stop the heavy feeling growing in his stomach. Jack had given him access to the secure archives today, something he’d never trusted with anyone else. And how was he repaying that? By planning an even greater duplicity than when he’d convinced Jack to give him a job in the first place.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t call Ianto when he failed to turn up at the usual time the following morning. Maybe the younger man had simply decided to take his advice and not come in at the crack of dawn to make sure everyone had coffee when they arrived. He did have to admit, however, he’d gotten used to having Ianto around first thing before the others arrived.

They didn’t talk much, apart from the usual morning greetings, and when Ianto brought him that first coffee, Jack had usually come up with something mildly suggestive, or lightly laced with innuendo to start the day, eager to hear what rejoinder Ianto would have for him.

By the time Owen dragged himself in looking hungover, but on time, Jack had decided something must have happened to Ianto after all. The team didn’t really notice he wasn’t there until they all realised no coffee had magically appeared on their desks.

“Oi, Harkness, get the teaboy up from the archives. He’s forgotten the coffee again,” Owen called from his desk.

“He’s not down there. He hasn’t arrived yet.” At least, he didn’t think he had. Maybe Ianto had come in before he’d even woken up and was already hard at work? No, surely not.

“Well, shit,” Owen said as if he didn’t know what to do with this information. “Do you think he’s sick or something?”

“I think I better find out.” Jack pulled his phone from his pocket, but just as he did, the cog wheel door rolled open and Ianto came hurrying in. He didn’t say anything, but his arms were full of paper bags of pastries and a tray of coffee. Wordlessly, he went around and handed out his treats, apparently having bought everyone’s favourites.

“In my office,” he said with a jerk of his head as Ianto stopped in front of him last.

“That’s what you get for being late, Teaboy,” Owen snickered. “Pastries and coffee isn’t going to save you a spanking from Jack. Though, I’m guessing you might enjoy it, eh?”

Ianto shot the doctor a heated glare. “You were late three mornings last week, Owen. If you’re looking for a spanking, I hear there’s a lovely lady who stands on the corner of Charles Street most nights. She’d be just your type.”

Tosh smothered a laugh as Owen flipped him off and then stomped down the stairs to the autopsy area. Ianto spun back toward him, and when he met his gaze, his expression suddenly tightened into worry, as if he thought maybe he’d taken things too far.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Had a bad night’s sleep. Then I over-slept this morning—”

Jack motioned him into the office, stepping aside to allow Ianto to pass him and then closed the door over.

“Owen had it coming. It’s probably about time someone gave him as good as he got.”

Jack went around his desk and sat in his chair as Ianto set the takeaway coffee and paper bag with the pastry down on his desk before taking the opposite seat.

Truthfully, he hadn’t slept much either. And Ianto had been the thing keeping him awake. Even though it hadn’t been twenty-four hours since he’d turned over the codes to the secure archives, he felt like he’d made the right decision. Ianto had been Torchwood One. He understood in a way the others never would. Which was why he’d been going over and over everything in his mind last night, examining his decision from every angle to make sure he was doing this for the right reasons.

Maybe some of it did come down to wanting to share the burden, of having someone who completely comprehended the importance of what they were doing here, and over the past weeks, Ianto have proven to have that and more. Which was why he was about to trust Ianto in a way he’d never trusted anyone. The secure archives had been a single key to the hub’s operations. This was like handing over the entire castle. Perhaps he was rushing into this, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he needed the peace of mind that someone else knew everything there was to know about the hub and Torchwood Three. The Doctor could turn up any day. He didn’t want this place to fall in a heap if he had to leave suddenly.

“I’ve been thinking about the secure archives,” he told Ianto by way of starting, folding his hands on top of his desk and leaving the pastry and coffee untouched.

Ianto’s expression fell just a little before he smoothly put his professional mask into place. “Of course, sir. If you’ve changed your mind it would be a simple matter of resetting the combinations—”

“That’s not it at all,” he replied, holding up a hand to cut Ianto off. “In fact, the complete opposite is true.”

“Sir?” Ianto’s brow creased as his features took on a puzzled expression that was utterly gorgeous. It was all Jack could do not to let himself get distracted by thoughts of kissing the confusion off his face.

“I think giving you access to the secure archives was the right decision to make. I trust you, Ianto. You were Torchwood One, you get it. You get me. You don’t question things, because you already understand the why behind my decisions.”

“It’s my job, sir,” he replied, still looking perplexed.

He nodded his agreement. “Which is why I’m going to give you the skeleton key, so to speak.”

Jack reached down, taking a small notebook out of his desk draw that he’d pulled out of the secure archives earlier in preparation for this. He handed it across the desk to Ianto, who simply held it in one hand, tracing his finger across the black leather cover.

“This has almost everything you could possibly need to know about the hub. Passwords, and codes to things like the rift manipulator. Procedures and instructions for events like total lockdown. You’ll need to memorise them.”

“I don’t understand.” Ianto finally looked up, more emotion in his expression than Jack had seen since the first day he’d started.

“It’s an oversight I’ve been ignoring for a long time. Someone else needs to know these things in case something happens to me.”

Ianto’s features tensed, probably assuming he was talking about dying. He wasn’t, however, his inability to stay dead was one thing Ianto didn’t need to know about. Maybe one day— This was enough for today, however.

“Sir, you can’t. I mean, you shouldn’t. Not me, I’ve only been here a few weeks. Suzie, or even Owen—”

Jack pushed up from his seat and walked around the desk to crouch next to the chair Ianto sat in, then closed his hands over Ianto’s on the notebook, gently pushing it toward him.

“But you’ve worked for Torchwood longer than both of them, you have much more experience and knowledge of what it means to _be_ Torchwood. I might not have agreed with how Yvonne ran things in London, but you’re not like her, Ianto. You care. And I know if I wasn’t in a position to make an important decision, you’d be able to guide the others to do the right thing.”

Ianto dropped his gaze and looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t deserve this.”

“It’s not a matter of deserving it. This is a matter of what I need. And, Ianto, I need you.”

Ianto snapped his gaze up to stare at him, and Jack found his heart pounding. He hadn’t meant it _that_ way. Or had he? Where Ianto Jones was concerned, he was never quite sure of his own intentions.

He released his hold and shifted away before he could give into the impulse to do more than just hold Ianto’s hand.

“Take the day, read it. If you’ve got any questions, we’ll discuss it when the others leave tonight.”

For a moment, Ianto sat there and stared at him, like maybe he was still thinking about refusing. But finally he nodded and got to his feet.

“I’ll be down in the archives if you need me.”

“Of course you will,” Jack muttered fondly as Ianto hurried away, clutching the book discreetly to his chest as he passed the others. Jack felt an unfamiliar sense of comfort settling over him. Torchwood was secured against him leaving suddenly. And there wasn’t anyone else he would have felt comfortable or confident leaving the fate of the hub to other than Ianto Jones.

*******

It was just after everyone had finished lunch in the conference room that Ianto came into his office looking troubled. The younger man closed over the door and then paced towards his desk, clearly something on his mind.

Jack tossed down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “How’s the reading going?”

“Fine. Good. I’ve already read it twice. Completely memorised.”

He arched a brow at this, but Ianto didn’t notice. He’d seen something in Ianto’s Torchwood One file about having an eidetic memory and his psychic scores being unusually high—Ianto could naturally see through things like perception filters and psychic paper without needing to be trained. He was also strongly empathetic, which was why he was so good at anticipating what people needed. Truthfully, he’d been surprised Ianto hadn’t done anything more than simply being a junior researcher at Torchwood One. He would have thought Yvonne would have put his skills to good use—or simply taken advantage of them. 

“So, is something wrong?”

Ianto’s clear apprehension was starting to make him nervous.

Ianto planted his hands on his hips as he pivoted to face Jack. “I owe you something. I should have told you about it the day you gave me the job, but I wasn’t sure—”

Ianto took a long breath and closed his eyes, an expression of pained concentration passing over his features, as if fighting his own memories. Canary Wharf. It had to be. He’d avoided asking Ianto directly about it. He seemed fine, so why bring up bad memories? Plus Jack had his own guilt attached to the situation.

He’d tried to warn Yvonne that the “ghost shifts” had to be something sinister, but she hadn’t wanted to listen to him. She’d been pissed about him severing all ties with Torchwood One when he’d taken over from Alex. Around the time the ghost shifts had started, the rift had become alarmingly active, but he hadn’t realised the two were connected until later. He and the team had been run off their feet trying to contain everything coming through on top of them. By the time he’d heard that Yvonne had taken the Doctor into custody, the Daleks and Cybermen had attacked, it’d been too late. He’d arrived in London to find the Doctor gone and the tower burning. He had found a hand, however. A very special hand that he’d since taken very good care of.

He’d tried not to think it, but maybe if he’d done more than just cut ties with Torchwood One, actually attempted to work with Yvonne and gradually turn things around, none of it would have happened and Rose wouldn’t have—

He cut off the thought like he always did. He couldn’t cope with the idea that his beautiful, vivacious Rose was gone forever. And if it hurt him, he couldn’t imagine how devastated the Doctor must be.

“What is it, Ianto? Tell me straight.” His voice came out a little rough and he swallowed down the tightness in the back of his throat.

Ianto glanced through the windows to where the rest of the team were working. “Not here. Can you come with me?”

When Ianto looked back at him, his gaze was pleading but worried. Whatever this was, he was clearly afraid of how Jack was going to react.

“Okay,” he replied slowly.

Ianto gathered his coat for him, then Jack snagged the keys to the SUV. He yelled out to let the team know he was going out for a while, but didn’t offer any explanation.

Once they were in the SUV, Jack looked over at Ianto.

“We’re going to Llyods Bank in Queen Street.”

He reached over and tapped the info into the GPS, earning a slight eyeroll from Ianto.

“I could have told you how to get there.”

He shot Ianto a grin. “I just like listening to the saucy English accent they’ve programmed into this thing. Although, now I’m thinking maybe I should get you and those Welsh vowels to do a special recording for me.”

He’d been hoping to lighten Ianto’s mood, and he’d earned a small smile, but the worry hadn’t quite left his eyes.

They drove in silence to the bank, Jack wondering the entire way why they were going there, but not bothering to ask. Ianto had clearly decided how this was going to go down, and he got the feeling no amount of pestering on his behalf would get Ianto to tell him any sooner.

At the bank, Ianto signed for a deposit box, then they followed the branch manger into the vault. Even more mystified, Jack watched as Ianto and the bank manager used their matching keys to open one of the compartments. Ianto waited while the manager discreetly withdrew before pulling the lockbox out and taking it over to the wooden table in the middle of the room.

Ianto silently unlocked it and then slid it across the table toward him.

“I’m not going to find a severed head or something in here, am I?”

Ianto sent him an exasperated look. “Clearly this isn’t big enough to fit a severed head. Unfortunately, it might be worse.”

“Worse than a severed head?” He pulled the box toward himself, a swell of raw nerves cresting within him.

He flipped open the lid and found another smaller box, this one the kind that usually held jewellery. Taking it out, he stole one last glance at Ianto who had a grim look on his face, before he slowly cracked open the casing.

All of his breath left him in a hard whoosh and he almost dropped the box as memories assaulted him.

“ _Object One?_ Ianto, how the hell do you have this?” He tried to keep his voice even, but knew he’d completely failed as he fought down the churning in his guts—the same he’d felt as he’d scrubbed blood from nearly every surface of the hub on New Year’s Eve, his entire team dead and the responsibility of Torchwood Three settling on his shoulders like a lead-lined cape. “You had it this whole time and never said anything?”

“That day—the battle. I was searching for Lisa and before I found her, I came across another friend of mine. He was—” Ianto gulped, taking a second to gather himself. “He was beyond saving. Yvonne had given him Object One and told him to throw it into the void, but he didn’t make it. Not even close. He gave it to me, but all I could think of was finding Lisa. I shoved it in my pocket without really even registering what it was. Not until almost twenty-four-hours later. I knew enough about it to realise I couldn’t keep it on me. But the tower was gone, the void was closed and I had to—”

He broke off, turning away as he shoved a shaking hand through his hair.

“I should have told you about it sooner, I’m sorry.”

He could see how much Ianto regretted keeping it from him, and though he was a little angry, it wasn’t at Ianto, not directly. He’d been through a lot. The last thing he’d needed was to be saddled with something like this. Jack crossed the distance between them, catching Ianto’s arm and turning him so they were face-to-face.

“It’s okay. I understand.”

Object One. The Bad Penny. No one really understood its power or purpose. Jack only knew it brought death, destruction and chaos, creating the worst possible future for those in its vicinity. The last time he’d seen it, he’d had Suzie trick Yvonne into taking possession of it, not wanting anything to do with the object. He’d tried throwing it into the rift once, and the First World War had started. He hated thinking that Yvonne keeping it at Canary Wharf had inadvertently caused the battle and Torchwood One’s ultimate destruction. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it, but no way was it staying in the hub.

He pulled Ianto into a hug. The other man resisted at first, but when Jack stubbornly tightened his hold, Ianto tentatively relaxed into it, but didn’t return the embrace.

“Well, that explains a few things,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

“Like what?” Ianto asked, pulling back.

Jack let him escape, trying not to feel exasperated as the younger man shifted to put the table between them.

“This bank. In the last few weeks its been robbed four times, gone through three branch mangers and an alarming number or random employees.”

Ianto looked stricken. “Bloody hell. I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have left it here—”

“Ianto, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. When it comes to Object One, I’m going to call it a win if there’s not a body count.”

“What are we going to do with it?” Ianto’s voice wasn’t much above a whisper.

“I don’t know. It can’t stay in the hub, though. We’ll figure something else out. Ready to go?”

Ianto nodded, seeming to shove down all his emotion and slip his professional mask back into place. It amazed him how Ianto could do that. Suddenly seem calm and in control, like nothing was wrong. He shook his head slightly as they left the bank.

He certainly hadn’t imagined he’d end up dealing with Object One today, but in a way, it was a good sign. He’d entrusted Ianto with everything of the hub, and in return, Ianto had shown that he trusted Jack. The team was going to be stronger for this. He had no doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter to link in the snippet from the Big Finish Torchwood Archives, where Ianto is given Object One during the Battle of Canary Wharf, almost exactly as I explained above. At some point after, the Committee got their hands on it again, and I always wondered what Ianto had done with it since it was never explained (at least I don't think it was. I find the Torchwood Archives audio a jumble of information. Its a good story, but I've listened to it several times now and am still picking up things I missed before.) So this was just my take on what Ianto might have done with Object One to fill the story gap :)


	7. Chapter 7

Ianto was only half listening while Jack told him what he knew about Object One aka the Bad Penny as they returned to the parking garage across the street from the bank where they’d left the SUV. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already read in the archives, but he let Jack go on because it was easier listening than trying to make conversation.

With everything else going on, he hadn’t given enough thought to how dangerous Object One was. He hadn’t even told Lisa about it. She’d needed to concentrate on surviving and getting better, not worrying about him having Object One in his possession. Not anymore, though. Even if Jack didn’t have any better idea about what to do with it than he had, at least the responsibility of it wasn’t solely his any longer.

Unfortunately, the relief he felt at having handed it over was out-weighed by his greater guilt of hiding Lisa from Jack.

When he’d first made this plan—admittedly hastily scrabbled together because of the urgency of Lisa’s situation—he’d settled on a strategy based on being in and out with the information and equipment he needed in a few short weeks. It was going on over two months now. And worse than the time dragging out was the fact he’d come to respect Jack and like him quite a bit more than he probably should, despite assuming he’d probably loathe working for the man after everything he’d heard about Captain Jack Harkness while working at Torchwood One.

He’d been late this morning after planning with Lisa; putting together all the details of how they were going to get her into the hub. There was already a room he had in mind, not too far from the generators, in a section no one ever went into, not even Jack. The hub really was a warren of tunnels and unused rooms. He was fairly certain once he got Lisa set up, no one would ever find her. The problem would be getting her there and then taking care of the CCTV footage thoroughly, but discreetly.

And it’d all been fine. He’d made peace with the fact that he’d have to take his ruse one step further. It would be worth it when Lisa was better. But then he’d arrived at work and Jack had handed over the bloody notebook.

Truly, it was going to make sneaking Lisa into the hub that much easier. But the fact Jack was entrusting him with something he hadn’t with the others—given him every single password and code and procedure than meant he literally held the security of Torchwood Three in his hands, he’d almost caved right then and told Jack everything. Only Lisa’s fear that Jack would kill her had held him back. He didn’t think that was the case—he knew Jack in a way Lisa didn’t—but he couldn’t betray Lisa’s confidence. Betraying one person he cared about was already enough. Instead, to appease his own conscience, he’d given Jack Object One. It had helped a little, but he still had a churning in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

“And then I told him he had banana-breath and looked like a monkey.”

Ianto snapped his head up to blink at Jack who was staring back at him in exasperation. They were on the lift of the parking garage, heading to the upper level where they’d parked the SUV.

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?” Jack crossed his arms, expression daring him to deny it.

“Sorry, just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Jack set a hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently. “Forget about it, okay? You shouldn’t have kept it from me, but I can understand why you did. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of giving you a job at first. I didn’t want anything to do with Torchwood One. From now on, just make sure you don’t keep anything else from me. Yeah?”

It was all he could do to stop the truth about Lisa bursting out of him. He bit his lip and fought it down, knowing Jack could see the struggle going on within him before he glanced away. Jack’s hand tightened on his shoulder and he prayed that Jack wouldn’t pull him into a hug like he had in the bank vault… almost as much as he desperately wished that Jack would. Because he knew if Jack did that, held him like he mattered, like Jack could make everything better, he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. He’d tell Jack everything and then Lisa would end up hating him.

Instead, he bit his lip harder, shoving down the emotions and hoping Jack just thought he was struggling with memories of Canary Wharf and would leave well enough alone.

The elevators doors opened and Ianto blew out a breath of relief as Jack let go of his shoulder and they stepped out, not saying anything else about the subject.

However, they’d only taken half a dozen steps when their path was blocked by three men wearing suits. One stood ahead of the others, looking a little more refined, his suit of better quality. The other two looked like thugs in cheap ensembles off the rack at TK Maxx.

“Mr. Harkness, might I have a moment of your time?” The man in front spoke with a snooty accent that matched his clothes.

“It’s _Captain_ Harkness, and now isn’t such a good time.” There was a hard note of wariness in Jack’s voice, and Ianto felt him subtly shift nearer to him, hand slipping closer to his Webley.

The man gave a faint smile. “I prefer a pretence of civility, but the fact is, we are going to talk, Captain. I’m afraid we have some very pressing business with you.”

The two thugs crowded closer, like they were spoiling for a fight. Jack didn’t bother with subtle anymore. He pointedly brushed his coat aside, revealing the holstered gun as he placed himself in front of Ianto.

“What is this about?” Jack demanded in a steely voice.

The man held out a card. Jack looked at it for a long moment before slowly reaching out to take it. He glanced at it, then held it over his shoulder for Ianto to take without shifting his eyes off the man. Lawrence Hartford, if the business card was to be believed. Lawyer with Chandler and Bell, one of the biggest firms in Cardiff.

“You’ve recently acquired something that a third party I represent are interested in taking off your hands,” the lawyer said, voice casual as if they were in a boardroom, not being accosted in a parking garage. 

Ianto saw Jack’s shoulders tighten under his coat.

“Sorry, can’t help you.”

Though he couldn’t see Jack’s face, from the tone of his voice, it’d sounded like the words had come out through a tight jaw. Ianto could only imagine Jack had that formidable expression on his face, the one that warned people not to mess with him.

“Come now, Mr Harkness. We’re both reasonably intelligent men, let’s not play dumb. We know you took the Silas Obelisk from the safety deposit box where Mr. Jones secured it several weeks ago.”

Ianto forced his expression to remain neutral, even though his heart had started pounding against the inside of his chest. How had they known about Object One? Had they been watching him this whole time? Did they know about _Lisa?_

He forced down the panic, because it wasn’t going to help anything right now. Not that he could do much good in this situation. He wasn’t armed and had never been cut out to be a field agent, even though he’d invariably found himself in several combat situations over the years at Torchwood One, especially that brief, tumultuous period of time when Rachel had seized control from Yvonne.

“Also known as Object One or the Bad Penny,” the lawyer continued when Jack didn’t answer.

Jack stayed silent for another long moment, just enough to start making Lawrence impatient.

“I doubt your client really understands the magnitude of this particular object,” Jack finally said, a note of reluctance in his tone, as if he didn’t want to admit they had it, but knew he had no other choice.

Lawrence smiled as though they’d already handed it over.

“On the contrary, Captain, my client knows exactly what the Silas Obelisk is capable of.”

Jack’s chin tilted up definitely. “Its too dangerous to sit in some rich old man’s collection.”

A fleeting, cold smile passed over Lawrence’s face. “The object isn’t going to a single collector, but a kind of committee, you could say. And I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”

Something cold and round pressed against the back of Ianto’s neck and he flinched, tightening up all over at the gun now jammed against the base of his skull.

“Jack.” His voice hitched as he slowly held his hands out to the sides, praying the thug who’d crept up behind him wasn’t too trigger happy.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, fury tightening his features as he took in the man threatening him.

“Fine,” Jack bit out. He shoved his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out the jewellery box with Object One nestled inside. “But whatever happens, it’s on your head. You and your committee.”

He tossed the box across the short gap to Lawrence, who caught it neatly. He flipped open the lid and then gave a satisfied nod. The gun pulled away from his neck and Ianto breathed a sigh of relief.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.” Lawrence shot him a suave smile, before pivoting on his heel and walking to a nearby BMW. The three thugs followed and a second later, the car was squealing out of the parking garage, leaving him and Jack standing in the same spot.

“Tosh?” Jack suddenly said, touching the comm in his ear. “I need you to track a black BMW from a parking garage on Queen Street.”

He reeled off the plate number and then thanked Tosh, before tapping his comm off again. Jack turned to face him, stepping closer.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, then reached up to press his fingers into the back of his neck where the gun had been, shivering because his skin still felt cold there.

“Might have a bruise, but could have been worse.”

Jack reached up and slid his own fingers in place of Ianto’s, gently massaging the tender spot, the heat of his hand making the chill melt away.

“They’ve got Object One.” Stating the obvious probably wasn’t helping right now, but his brain was still overloaded on adrenaline.

“Maybe its for the best,” Jack murmured.

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

“We’ll track them down, keep an eye on things, maybe swoop in and offer to take it back again when it starts influencing events around them for the worse. But I can’t say I’m sorry we don’t have to find some place to stash it. We’ve got enough on our plates with the rift to worry about what Object One is bringing down on us.”

His conscience told him they should probably be more worried about what had just happened, and he felt partly responsible because he’d brought Object One from Canary Wharf. But Jack was right. He couldn’t worry about anything else right now, not when Lisa’s life was hanging in the balance and his presence at Torchwood Three was a lie.

“Ready to get back? I could use a coffee.” Jack finally dropped his hand from the back of Ianto’s neck, leaving a tingle tracking down his spine like an after echo of the gentle warmth.

He nodded, falling into step beside Jack as they headed for the SUV. Coffee sounded like an excellent idea. Maybe he’d even have an industrial strength cup like Jack favoured. He had a long night ahead of him, because somehow, he was going to have to find a way to monitor Jack’s overnight movements to figure out how to safely get Lisa into the hub. Tonight would be a test to see if he could pretend to leave, then sneak back into the hub with Jack being none the wiser.

The churning in his stomach returned. _Lisa_ , he reminded himself. This was all worth it to save Lisa. Problem was, the more he said those words to himself, the less he believed them.


	8. Chapter 8

The past four days since the lawyer had jumped them in the parking garage and demanded Object One had been relatively quiet, so Jack should have realised it would mean something would inevitably go wrong.

He was sitting in the conference room with Ianto going over the monthly budget. Doing it at the larger table instead of at his desk in his office like they had the past three months had been a strategic move for several reasons. One; they had more room to spread the papers, print outs and receipts, and two; this way Ianto was sitting next to him instead of across from him. As they’d been working over the past few hours, their chairs had somehow gotten closer and closer, until they were leaning into each other’s space, shoulders and arms brushing when they passed papers between each other and made notes on the figures.

He’d always been a tactile person, comfortable in his own space and with others even if they weren’t. But with Ianto it was more than just comfortable. It was almost soothing, like the rest of his life was a whirlwind, but when he was this close to Ianto, it was the calm at the eye of the storm. Ianto was obviously just as completely at ease around him—regularly receiving and returning the small touches and shared glances—except he hadn’t given any indication that he wanted anything more to come of their friendship. All except for that night in the warehouse when they’d caught Myfanwy and he’d sworn for a second Ianto was going to kiss him.

Jack told himself it was for the best. If Ianto had hinted he wanted more, or made some kind of move on him, he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist, even though he’d been constantly telling himself that relationships at work were a bad idea. At least for him, anyway. Suzie and Owen had slept together and it hadn’t disturbed the functionality of the team… yet. Of course, it might be a different story if Tosh found out. But it was different for him. He was the boss. Arguably it could be seen as taking advantage of Ianto if they did start anything.

He shook his head at the way his thoughts had wandered, especially as Ianto leaned across him, his chest lightly pressing against Jack’s arm as he corrected some figures Jack had been writing out.

“You just gave Owen an extra thousand dollars to spend on gauze and medical tape,” Ianto said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“The way he goes through it, that’s probably not unreasonable. Sometimes I really wonder what he does with it all. Surely we don’t bleed that much.” He glanced up, wanting to catch the smile he knew would be edging across Ianto’s lips, only to find Ianto hadn’t moved back, leaving their faces mere inches apart.

His breath caught in his chest, but he managed to hold himself still. He tilted his head a little, silently daring Ianto to close that last small distance between them.

Ianto’s blue eyes darkened, and he could see the desire there, see he was vehemently fighting himself, his mind holding him back, even as his body clearly wanted the same thing Jack did. What was going on in that head of his, that he was so against anything happening between them? Was it because he was a man? Maybe Ianto had never felt attraction to someone of his own sex before and was struggling with reconciling it? But no, he didn’t think that was the problem, otherwise Ianto wouldn’t be so comfortable flirting with him, especially in front of the others.

Jack took a breath, curiosity winning out as he decided to ask outright, when someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Suzie stood there, arms crossed and looking rather disapproving, leaving him feeling like he’d gotten caught by someone’s mother doing something he shouldn’t have been.

“Did you need something, Suzie?” he asked, focusing his attention on her, even though he was aware of Ianto next to him, suddenly focusing diligently on the papers in front of him.

“I finished the initial analysis on that gauntlet we dredged out of the bay yesterday, seems to be some kind of strange energy readings coming off it. I’d like to run some further tests. The glove is obviously meant to do something.”

Ianto shifted next to him, dragging Jack’s attention back to what they’d been doing—almost been doing—before Suzie had walked in.

“Whatever you need,” he told her, trying not to sound as distracted as he felt. She nodded, casting a shrewd glance between him and Ianto, before turning and walking from the conference room.

Jack let out a breath, forking a hand through his hair. Tension had pulled his shoulders tight, and it was the kind of tension that had only one solution. Problem was, he knew it was a bad idea and even that thought was starting to sound like a broken record. Yet the more time he spent with Ianto, the more they flirted, the less he cared.

He closed his eyes for a moment, willing some of the tension away… as if it were that simple.

“Might be time for a break.” Ianto got up and Jack opened his eyes to see him tugging his waistcoat straight. He’d taken off his jacket about two hours ago, rolled up his shirtsleeves an hour after that, and just fifteen minutes passed had tugged his tie loose. He’d also been running his hands through his hair, and Jack couldn’t deny he’d enjoyed the slow unravelling to reveal Ianto’s more relaxed, untidy side.

“Coffee?” Ianto asked as he went to step around Jack’s chair.

Jack caught his hand, staring up at him when Ianto paused. He traced his thumb over Ianto’s palm, feeling the smooth skin and slight roughness of his calluses.

“Coffee and…” He hesitated, which was unusual for him. Usually he never second guessed himself, but Ianto constantly kept him slightly off balance. He never knew what to expect. Maybe that was part of the reason he was so drawn to him. “After everyone leaves tonight, will you stay? We should talk.”

A hint of surprise and then maybe apprehension flitted over Ianto’s face before he hid it behind his usual impassive mask. “Of course, sir.”

Jack sent him a reassuring smile, then let him go, watching as he crossed the conference room and left to make the coffee. A moment later, Jack was settling back into the paperwork as the familiar steaming whoosh and rattle of the coffee machine sounded.

Except the serenity was abruptly and rudely interrupted by Owen swearing a very loud and long streak, accompanied by the clatter of erupting chaos in the autopsy bay.

Jack threw down his pen and rushed out of the conference room. “What the hell is going on?”

Owen came scrambling up the stairs. “Those two alien rodent-things we brought in this morning that I said were absolutely definitely dead?”

“Owen.” He growled the word in warning, already knowing what was coming next.

“Yeah, it turns out neither of them were that dead after all and definitely not in the mood to be autopsied.”

“Ianto!” Jack strode quickly around the balcony and down the stairs. “Full lockdown, now!”

Ianto gave a single nod and hurried to comply.

“How does _he_ know the lockdown codes when none of the rest of us do?” Suzie demanded in a tight voice.

“Jack, that’ll take ten hours minimum before we can override it,” Tosh exclaimed before he could reply to Suzie. “We’ll be stuck in here all night.”

“We can’t risk the Tretlings getting out of the hub,” he replied in a hard voice, not liking his decisions being questioned at the best of times. No doubt Suzie was going to demand she also get access to the lockdown codes. He supposed he could give her some basics to curb her from turning her ire on Ianto. 

The alarm started up, then the clanging and clicking of locks echoed through the hub. “On most worlds the Tretlings are considered a serious pest. If they got out into Cardiff and started breeding, they’d overrun the country within weeks and probably the world within months.”

Owen crossed his arms, not looking nearly worried enough about this, especially since he’d let them get loose. “What are the chances they were actually a breeding pair?”

“They can swap gender, so two of any is all you need.”

“Like some species of fish?” Tosh put in, sounding curious. Of course she’d be more interested in the scientific side.

“Tranquiliser gun.” Ianto appeared next to him. “I took the liberty of grabbing it out of the armoury before the lockdown.”

Of course, because the armoury was inaccessible during lockdown. It probably seemed like a design flaw, but from his own past experiences of dealing with threats within the hub, it was the far better option. Because while they might not have been able to access the weapons, neither could anyone else, including any hostile beings.

“Good thinking, Ianto.” He took the weapon with a smile aimed at Ianto. 

“Owen?”

The doctor reluctantly walked over to him as he held out the tranq gun.

“Happy hunting.”

Owen muttered a curse and snatched the weapon, before stomping back down into the autopsy bay, presumably to prepare the darts that went in it. Tosh and Suzie had already turned back to whatever work they’d been doing before the commotion started, though Suzie was looking very cranky about being locked in.

He turned to look at Ianto who appeared a little confused. And adorable, the way his brow creased as he stared after where Owen had disappeared.

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Ianto asked, indicating toward where they could hear the doctor muttering and banging around his area.

“He can handle it. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time. Now, I think you were making coffee.”

“And then I should make sure the vaults are prepared for two new inmates.” Ianto started to turn away, but then paused. “Sir. The lockdown. Will it really be ten hours before we can reverse it?”

He gave a shrug. “It won’t be the first all-nighter we’ve pulled. This one is just a little more restrictive.”

Something flashed through Ianto’s gaze, something like concern, maybe. Or fear. Or— He wasn’t sure what, it was gone too fast behind that calm, composed expression before Jack could make sense of it.

“I’ll get your coffee, sir,” Ianto murmured, quickly turning and hurrying away before Jack could say anything.

He stared after Ianto for a moment, trying to figure out what about the lockdown could have unsettled him, but then returned to the unfinished budgets, putting it from his mind.

Ianto brought the coffee up a few minutes later to silently and efficiently set the mug down and then disappear again—no quip or lingering touch to be had. At first, Jack didn’t think too much about it, forcing himself to concentrate on the budgeting.

However, a while later, he looked up and realised that it’d been an hour since Ianto had left him with the coffee and not returned.

He walked out of the boardroom to see Suzie standing behind Tosh at her work station, the two of them watching something on one of Tosh’s screens, obviously amused. Shifting over, he glanced at the screen to see the CCTV footage of the lower levels, where Owen had cornered the Tretlings, but the creatures weren’t making things easy for him.

“Either of you seen Ianto?” he asked the pair.

“No,” Tosh said distractedly, amusement obvious in her voice. “I think he was heading down to the archives for something.”

The words ended with a smothered laugh as Owen tripped over one of the Tretlings when it darted between his legs. Honestly, he would have liked to stay and watch, but something about Ianto’s behaviour was tickling the back of his mind.

“This is recording, right?”

Suzie sent him a droll look. “Of course.”

He sent her a wide grin. “Make sure you send a copy to my computer. It’s definitely going to come in handy later for blackmailing purposes.”

Jack left the girls laughing and headed down into the archives. He found Ianto in the small main office where he spent a lot of his time cataloguing and sorting files and random items. He was pacing in front of the desk, steps agitated, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. There was tension in his features but also more emotion than Jack had seen any day since Ianto had first started over three months ago.

He hesitated at the doorway, not sure how to approach him, totally at a loss about what to do with this side of the man he hadn’t seen before.

“Ianto?”

Ianto stiffened, half turning away from him, hands settling on his hips. Jack took a single step into the room, watching carefully as Ianto’s shoulders expanded when he took a deep breath.

“Something you need?” Ianto finally pivoted to face him, the movement precise. He’d obviously worked hard to put his mask back into place, but Jack could still see that the edges were ragged. Had the lockdown triggered some of his memories of Canary Wharf? He wanted to ask Ianto if he was alright, but something held him back. Whatever was going on, Ianto had obviously come down here to deal with it on his own and Jack didn’t feel like it was his place to push whatever the issue was, no matter what was or wasn’t between them.

Despite the tension, he decided to ignore it and sent Ianto a quick smile. “Just wanted to ask if you really trusted me to finish the month’s budget by myself.”

Jack caught the relief that crossed Ianto’s face. For today, not asking seemed like the right tact to take. Maybe at some stage, he needed to consider asking Ianto about Canary Wharf. Only problem was, he didn’t want to know. Probably wanted to talk about it even less than Ianto. He’d seen the aftermath and knowing Rose had been lost there, he didn’t think he could sit through listening to Ianto’s firsthand account and imagine what might have happened to his bright, beautiful girl who’d reminded him there was more to life than running and surviving, than pulling the perfect con. She had woken him, then the Doctor had healed him, made him want to be a better man, made him believe for the first time since leaving the Time Agency that he could do something important and make a difference.

Maybe it wasn’t fair on Ianto, maybe he needed to talk about it to someone who could have a hope of understanding, not the shrinks Whitehall had paid, almost as an afterthought, for the 27 survivors simply because they hadn’t known what else to do with them. Jack supposed as Torchwood employees, their welfare should have fallen to him. Except in the days and weeks after, his fury had been barely contained and left to him, he likely would have retconned all of them back to their teenage years and been done with it.

Whitehall had called him exactly once, around forty-eight hours after the tower had fallen, to ask him what to do about the survivors. Truthfully, Jack had been surprised there were any at all. No doubt the few but succinct words he’d replied with before hanging up on them had convinced Whitehall to take care of it in their own way, and until Ianto had turned up on his doorstep, he hadn’t given the survivors another thought.

Now, in some ways he was even more relieved that he’d washed his hands of the responsibility. Because if he’d been forced to deal with it, Ianto would have had his memories wiped and wouldn’t be standing there, sending Jack a small, relieved smile as he gathered the rest of his composure. Still looking undone and too tempting for words considering he’d also half unbuttoned his waistcoat since coming down to the archives an hour ago.

“At least with this lockdown, we don’t have a reason not to get them finished tonight.” Ianto started buttoning his waistcoat, but Jack reached out and stopped him.

“Leave it. As of half an hour ago, work hours officially ended. Might as well be comfortable for the next eight and a half hours.”

Ianto stared at him for a long moment, though Jack couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind. Finally, he let his hands fall back to his sides, however.

“Has Owen managed to catch the Tretlings yet?”

Jack grinned at him. “Nope. And we’re getting some brilliant CCTV footage out of it to use as blackmail next time he’s being a twat.”

Ianto’s answering smile was almost genuine, but there were still shadows in his gaze. “Send a copy to my computer?”

He laughed, reaching out to pull Ianto into a walk, heading back up to the main hub.

“That’s exactly what I told Tosh.”


	9. Chapter 9

The budget was long finished, the clock had ticked well past midnight and in the past few hours Ianto had made more cups of coffee for the team than was probably healthy in such a short space of time. Tosh had fallen asleep on the couch about an hour ago, Suzie was diligently still working, while Jack had his feet kicked up on his desk, incongruously reading a well-worn paperback science fiction novel. Owen was apparently no closer to catching the Tretlings and every time someone had suggested that maybe he needed help, the stubborn doctor had refused, his increasingly bad temper keeping everyone away.

Ianto had done some tidying, then gone down to the archives, checking the room he’d set up for Lisa, adjusting some of the equipment. It was basically all ready to go—apart from a few more complicated things that Lisa had told him she could explain once she got here. When he’d asked how she could possibly know so much about the very advanced cyber technology since he was the one who’d read the files (and there was plenty in those he couldn’t even begin to comprehend), she’d reluctantly admitted that her conversions had apparently given her the knowledge. He’d tried not to worry what that meant for her brain, but clearly she was still his Lisa, and once they got her connected up to the life support unit—because he refused to call it a conversion unit—all of the processes forced on her body would be reversed and they could get their life back.

After a while, however, he hadn’t been able to linger down there any longer. One, because he didn’t want anyone—mainly Jack—to come looking for him. And two, being in the room intended for Lisa kept reminding him that he hadn’t been able to go home and administer the nightly dose of painkillers and sedatives. This wasn’t the first time he’d been caught up—though usually he got home very late, instead of not at all. Tonight, he’d be away the entire night for the first time since they’d arrived in Cardiff. He’d left extra doses of painkillers within her reach because he never knew when he was going to be late. Enough to take the edge off, but no more. Secretly, he’d worried that if he left too much, she might take all of them and simply put an end to all this.

He made his way back up to the hub, exhaustion from an already long day only made worse by his worry and stress over Lisa. When he got there, he found Tosh had woken up and Jack had come out of his office. The fact that Suzie had actually put her tools down and was paying attention to anything else told him that something had clearly happened.

“Did he finally catch them?” he asked as he joined where Jack was standing next to Tosh, still sitting on the couch but staring upward in concern.

Before anyone could answer, there was a loud crash that sounded suspiciously like breaking crockery. He flinched and glanced up at the source of the noise, where Owen was standing in the little kitchenette corner on the second level. He’d knocked two plates off the narrow metal bench as he swung the tranq gun around, tracking the movements of the darting Tretlings. The doctor backed up, into the coffee machine which shifted alarmingly.

“That’s it!” His coffee machine was the last straw.

Jack and Tosh stared at him in astonishment at his growled words, but he ignored them as he strode quickly toward the stairs. When he reached the second level, Owen was swearing a blue streak and this time knocked over the canister containing the very expensive coffee beans, sending them scattering across the bench and floor.

Without saying anything, Ianto walked up and yanked the tranq gun out of Owen’s hands. The doctor froze in shock, mouth dropping open—probably at his uncharacteristic display of belligerence. He spun around, giving Owen his back as he brought up the tranq gun. The Tretlings were still darting in random patterns across the walkway, up and down the walls, jumping from the railings and tumbling over each other. Playing, it looked like. For all intents and purposes, the little furry creatures seemed to be having a great time. He tracked them for a split second then let off two shots in quick succession.

Both the Tretlings let out surprised squeaks, loping a few more steps, their movements slowing until they finally succumbed to the tranquilizer and fell asleep. He handed the gun back to Owen without looking at him, tugged his shirt-sleeves straight and then walked over to the stairs, going down to fetch a broom so he could start cleaning up his previously pristine kitchenette. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Jack, Tosh and Suzie staring at him with similarly gaping expressions.

“How did you do that?” Tosh asked, sounding amazed.

“Beginners luck,” Owen called from somewhere behind him, sounding petulant.

“That was _not_ beginners luck.” Jack was staring at him, intrigue and maybe a hint of concern in his expression.

Oh damn. He hadn’t been thinking. He was so bloody tired, and when Owen had bumped the coffee machine, it’d been the end of his patience. All he’d been able to think about was ending the farce, not the fact he’d been hiding certain abilities and aspects of his training from Jack. Well, he’d done it now. Jack would want to know why a junior researcher was apparently an expert shot.

“You mean you could have done that six hours ago and saved us the lock down?” Suzie demanded.

“Well—” He scrambled for something to say, not like him at all, to be lost for words. But he hadn’t been sleeping well all week since he and Lisa had decided to sneak her into the hub and pulling an all-nighter—physically locked in with no choice about leaving—his usually nimble brain was definitely not functioning to full speed.

“Come with me.” Jack’s voice held a hint of steel, which promptly made Suzie return to her work and Tosh send him a somewhat sympathetic smile. When he turned around, Owen was standing at the bottom of the stairs, still holding the tranq gun and shaking his head as if Ianto had done something wrong.

He expected Jack to disappear into his office, but instead he headed for the doorway leading down to the archives. Ianto followed him, not bothering to ask where they were going. If Jack wanted him to know, he would have said so.

He swallowed down a hard surge of apprehension that made his stomach churn, hoping Jack wasn’t taking him to the vaults. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong, there was no need to lock him up, was there? But Jack had said not to keep anything from him anymore, and while he might have reasoned away his excellent shooting skills as insignificant in the scheme of things, Jack might not see it that way. A hysterical laugh nearly escaped as he wondered what Jack would think if he ever found out about Lisa. Hopefully if he ever did, Lisa would be healed and they’d be long gone so he wouldn’t have to see the fallout.

Jack pushed through a heavy door with a whole bunch of warning signs on the outside and he suddenly realised what was going on.

“Sir,” he started, hesitating at the doorway.

Jack held it open and indicated he should step through.

“Do we really have to do this now? It’s the middle of the night and we’re all tired.”

“We still have four hours left until we can reverse the lockdown. Got something better to do?” Jack sent him a grin that was almost cutting. “And, don’t worry, I’ll take all that into consideration when I calculate your scores.”

He sighed, recognising the stubborn gleam in Jack’s eye. He wouldn’t be leaving the hub tonight until he’d gotten this over with and Jack was satisfied with whatever information he planned to get.

Brushing by Jack, he walked into the shooting range while Jack went over to the locked cabinet on the wall and got out the training weapons. Ianto stood by silently while Jack laid out various calibre guns, ammo and safety gear.

Wordlessly, Ianto slipped on the goggles and ear protection—unsurprisingly monogramed with the Torchwood T like everything else in the hub seemed to be—and picked up the nearest gun. He then selected the magazine that went with it, finding it already filled with bullets. As he slipped the clip home, Jack put on his own safety gear and then crossed his arms.

“Don’t even think about pulling any of your shots. I’ve seen you shoot once, and I’ll be watching you closely. I’ll know if you try to downplay it.”

He took a slow calming breath and brought up the gun in a two-handed grip to aim at the paper cut-out of a weevil. There were half a dozen of them, set out at various distances and angles around the room. Ianto could practically feel the warmth and weight of Jack’s attention, but determinedly blocked him out as he squeezed off the first few shots. Once the weevil was “dead” he swapped guns for the next target, methodically working his way through each weapon Jack had set out on the table.

When he was done and all the targets were punctured with neat holes—identical kill shots on each—he set the last gun down and pulled off the safety gear, forearms and shoulders aching slightly at the use of muscles that didn’t get used very often.

Jack hadn’t moved the entire time, but now he removed his own protective gear and sauntered over, all the way into Ianto’s personal space. He knew it was a tactic meant to put him off balance, so he held his ground.

Jack leaned closer and Ianto’s breath caught, especially as those bloody pheromones hit him. Jack shifted all the way in until his mouth was close to Ianto’s ear.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he murmured, sounding impressed and—though Ianto tried to force himself to ignore it—possibly turned on.

“All employees at Torchwood One were trained to use a weapon, sir,” he answered, relieved at how even his voice sounded when his pulse was racing. “It would have been in my personnel file, which I know you read.”

Jack leaned back to look at him, but his body shifted in closer until their chest were brushing. Ianto could barely take it any longer—couldn’t decide if he wanted to grab Jack and pull him closer or shove him away to put some space between them so he could get his sanity back. Instead, he stepped back, only to come up against the table behind him.

“Ianto Jones, I’m beginning to see I got a lot more than I bargained for when I gave you a job here.”

Oh God. Jack didn’t know the half of it. Ianto stared at him, once again fighting the urge to tell him about Lisa. But that desire was quickly being overtaken by a different, stronger desire and then it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss him. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t betray Lisa that way. He’d never cheated on any of his girlfriends and he didn’t intend to start now, especially when Lisa was clinging so precariously to life. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that to her. And that wasn’t even mentioning how personal it would make the fact he was lying to Jack. If it wasn’t already. Right now, he could console himself that he was only betraying Jack professionally. Unfortunately, that line had started blurring—at least for him, anyway. He knew the team didn’t care about him beyond his coffee making skills and ability to keep their work lives running smoothly.

Jack may have respected him a little more, relied on him even more since he now had the codes and passwords to every aspect of the hub, but Jack still didn’t know anything about him. Not truly. Jack might have been attracted to him from the first day they’d met, but it was simply physical. Jack hadn’t made any more of an effort to get to know the real him than the others had. He’d simply piled on more and more work, as the others had, until that was all he was. The plough-horse of Torchwood Three.

The realisation grounded him and he slid out from between Jack and the table. “I need to go clean up the mess Owen left upstairs.”

He didn’t give Jack a chance to answer as he hurried out of the firing range and didn’t dare look back. This was the problem with his research taking so long. Things had become complicated, because he’d started to care, not that any of the others realised. So like him, to get far deeper and emotionally involved than he’d intended. Lisa was getting worse and he felt like he was being sucked down the proverbial rabbit hole of Torchwood Three. He needed to refocus his efforts on helping Lisa and not worry about anything else. They needed to implement the next phase of the plan and get her into the hub, sooner rather than later.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack had given everyone the day off after the eventful night, but unsurprisingly, by mid-afternoon, they’d all drifted into the hub. First it had been Suzie, mumbling something about being close to a break-through on the glove they’d dredged out of the bay over a week ago. Then it was Tosh, telling him some equation had come to her in the shower and if she applied it to the rift monitoring program then… something he couldn’t remember since he’d admittedly zoned out around that point because Ianto had appeared with a tray of coffees.

He’d startled, because he hadn’t even noticed Ianto come in, which was a feat since the cog wheel door was noisy and clanking and fitted with flashing lights and alarms. They’d all taken their cups and Jack had been about to point out that Ianto had made one for Owen who wasn’t even here, when the door had opened and the medic had appeared. Really, sometimes Ianto was _too good_ at his job.

Since there wasn’t much in the way of medical work happening at the moment, Jack had given Owen some of the basic information on the law firm, Chandler and Bell, which he’d started investigating in his small slices of spare time. He didn’t think the law firm presented any immediate threat, but if there was a committee of rich people collecting alien artefacts, then he needed to know about it. Plus, as he’d told Ianto, he wanted to keep an eye on things, so that if Object One started causing problems—more like _when_ Object One started causing problems—he could quickly contain the situation if he already knew where the item in question was.

Owen seemed happy enough to take on the project and wandered off, reading the slim file. Jack returned to his desk, reading some correspondence from UNIT about some tech they were having trouble identifying, when the phone rang. Lazy of him, he knew, but these days he didn’t even bother reaching for it. A moment later, it stopped and he heard the rich tones of Ianto’s voice as he took the call.

Jack resumed his reading, trying to work out from the vague description provided what UNIT might have gotten their hands on this time. Footsteps interrupted him, however, and he glanced up as Ianto walked into his office and straight over to his computer. Ianto brought up his schedule and then consulted the PDA in his hand.

“Whitehall want you in London first thing tomorrow.” Ianto typed away at the keyboard. “I’ve rearranged the phone conference you had set for tomorrow afternoon and I’ll call that scientist from Germany who wanted to consult on the—”

“It all sounds fine,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I trust you. I _don’t_ trust Whitehall, however. What do they need to see me in person for that they couldn’t just tell me over the phone?”

Ianto cast him a look that said the question was redundant. “Can’t say, sir, they’re not about to divulge government secrets to the general administrator, are they?”

Turning his attention back to the computer, Ianto made a few last adjustments to the schedule. “The meeting is at nine a.m., so you’ll want to leave tonight. I assume Torchwood still have an account with the same hotel in London? I’ll book you a suite.”

Before he could answer any of that, Ianto stood and turned, shifting to put an impersonal amount of distance between them.

“Would you like me to pack your bag, sir?”

For some reason, this took him aback. “You’d actually do that?”

Ianto inclined his head. “It’s not out of the realms of the role a personal assistant would be expected to do. I already take your dry-cleaning and wash most of your clothes for you.”

Jack found himself nodding, trying to figure out when Ianto had started taking care of his more personal requirements as well. One day, he’d gone down to his bunker and started finding clean shirts, but he’d been in a hurry and hadn’t really stopped to think about it. Gradually the bunker itself had become tidier and constantly stocked with the soaps and shampoos he preferred. Some nights he even found a bottle of chilled mineral water next to his bed when he went down for the rare times he slept. It was only now he realised Ianto had so seamlessly improved so many aspects of the hub, he’d stopped noticing the changes altogether.

“Call out if you need anything,” Ianto said, before going over and disappearing down through the hatch in the floor.

*******

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Before he knew it, Ianto had come back into his office and taken his coat down from the stand.

“Time you were leaving, sir?” Though the words had been presented as a question, it had sounded closer to an order. Strangely enough, he hadn’t seen much of Ianto in the last few hours, apart from appearing with coffee and biscuits for afternoon tea. And those had been delivered with a polite, if not somewhat distant smile, before he’d slipped away again. Ianto hadn’t even returned his attempt at flirting with any witty rejoinders.

After all these months, had he finally pushed Ianto too far last night down on the firing range? He had to admit, Ianto’s confident and competent proficiency at handling all those guns had been somewhat of a turn on. Not to mention the guy had a dead-shot aim. Every single target had ended with almost identically placed holes. He knew his actions after had gone beyond the heavy-handed flirting they usually exchanged right into seduction territory, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He also hadn’t been able to make that last move and be the one to kiss Ianto. There was a shred of his conscience holding out, telling him that he was the boss and repeating for the millionth time that relationships at work were a bad idea. But if Ianto had kissed him, he wouldn’t have held anything back.

Except Ianto had done the complete opposite. The younger man had escaped his hold and disappeared back up into the hub to clean up the mess Owen had left, then avoided him directly for the remainder of the lockdown. And now it seemed Ianto had decided where they needed to stand with each other. If today’s cooler treatment was anything to go by, then Ianto had decided he didn’t want anything to happen between them.

It was probably for the best. He’d gotten a little caught up in the physical attraction between them and the novelty of Ianto being new to the team. But it was time to pull back and let things be. That didn’t mean he was going to stop flirting—he flirted with everyone, it was just how he related to people. And Ianto’s particular brand of cutting wit was too good to give up on altogether. He was just going to rein himself in and forget about anything ever happening between them.

Just as he’d shrugged into his greatcoat and was reaching out to tak the overnight bag Ianto held out for him, Suzie came rushing into his office, more excited than he’d seen her in—well, probably ever.

“Suzie, everything okay?” he asked as she practically skidded to a stop in front of him.

“The glove!” she gushed. “I worked out what it does.”

“You did?” He paused, looking at her expectantly but she suddenly seemed to have run out of words. “Well, what is it?”

“This is going to sound… well, not strange. This is Torchwood, after all. But it’s a little—”

“Suzie, just spit it out already,” he told her in exasperation, not able to remember his second in command ever saying so many pointless words.

“It brings people back,” she said quickly. “From the dead.”

“It does what?” he exclaimed.

“It— I don’t think it resurrects people. Actually, I won’t know for sure until I try it. But I think it brings a person back from beyond death, back to their body. Not permanently though, just for a few minutes at the most.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, wondering who had invented this particular device. He’d never heard of anything like it.

“I want to try it on the bodies in the morgue.” Suzie stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “Just think, Jack. We could find out what’s on the other side. We could answer those life questions people have been desperate to know since time began.”

“Alright then, just be careful. Make sure you’ve at least got Owen with you, if not Tosh to take some readings as well. If anything seems hinkey, shut it down and wait until I get back tomorrow night before you try anything else.”

“Thank you, Jack!” Suzie let him go and hurried out of his office. When he turned to take the bag from Ianto, still standing patiently behind him, the other man had a troubled expression on his usually impassive features, brow knitted together.

“Something wrong?” he asked, taking the bag and stepping back.

The concern cleared from Ianto’s features as he shook his head, then sent Jack a smooth, friendly smile. The polite but impersonal one Jack had seen him use on clueless tourists in the office upstairs.

“Not at all. Have a pleasant journey, sir.”

“If anything goes wrong, you’ll call me immediately, yes?” There’d only been one or two times he’d left the hub for more than a few hours at a time since he’d taken on the mantle of leadership. Not because he didn’t trust his team, but mostly because before now, no one else knew everything about the hub and he’d worried if he wasn’t here with all the passwords and codes at a moment’s notice, something could have gone wrong. But now Ianto had all that information, so there was really no reason not to spend the night in London. Funny, but he’d hardly even thought twice about it when Ianto had made the arrangements.

“Don’t worry, sir, the hub will still be standing when you get back tomorrow. You better get on now, or you’ll miss the train. Taxi should already be waiting on the Plass.”

He sent Ianto an exasperated look. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me for some reason.”

Ianto smoothly turned away to collect his empty coffee mug and tidy what little mess was on his desk. “Of course, sir. The second you’re out the doors, it’ll be pizza and beers all ‘round. I doubt any work will get done in the next twenty-four-hours. We might even put on the sound system and invite a bunch of drunk strangers later tonight.”

He shook his head slightly at Ianto’s use of sarcasm, but it was missing its usual warmth underneath. Ianto wasn’t looking at him, however.

“Well, don’t drink too much, or you’ll be sorry when you become intimately acquainted with the toilet bowl in the morning.”

Ianto cut him a shallow smile. “Good-bye, sir,” he said pointedly.

Jack huffed a sigh and told him goodbye, then left his office, repeating the same to Owen, Tosh and Suzie as he walked past their workstations. They barely responded, all caught up in their work. As he reached the cog wheel door, he took one last glance at his team, Ianto ghosting between the computers and screens, discreetly tidying around the others. A small pinch of regret tightened in his chest that Ianto had so obviously distanced himself since last night. Maybe a night away from the hub would be just what he needed.


	11. Chapter 11

Ianto couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous. Not even when he’d ambushed Jack that first night for the job. Not even the first morning when he’d started this ruse and passed the point of no return. He was trying not to check his watch every other minute, calculating when the train from London would have arrived in Cardiff. How long it might have taken Jack to get a taxi, how thick the traffic was and how many minutes it would take to reach the Plass. Really, none of it signified. Jack was arriving back too soon after his night away in London and Ianto didn’t know how he was going to face his boss without sweating or looking guilty now that Lisa was set up in a room down in the far reaches of the archives.

It had taken all night. First, waiting for the others to leave—Suzie had stayed unusually late, preparing for her first round of experiments with the glove that morning using the bodies in the morgue. Ianto still couldn’t believe Jack had so casually allowed Suzie to mess around with something that brought people back from the dead—even temporarily. It was more along the lines of something he’d expected Torchwood One to do in their unrelenting quest for technology to advance the British Empire. Still, he probably shouldn’t have been so astounded. In the end, this was Torchwood, after all, despite Jack running things remarkedly different.

When Suzie had finally left, Ianto had looped the CCTV footage in the lower corridors so it would show nothing but the same minute worth of empty passageways over and over for the next eight hours.

He’d then gone home, so nervous his palms were sweating and he was left wishing he hadn’t eaten dinner because of the way his stomach was churning and making him nauseous. His immediate concern was how much this was going to hurt Lisa. Part of him feared she was so weak, it might actually kill her. Still, Lisa had been determined, even though he’d tried one last-ditch effort to talk her into seeking help—this time he didn’t mention Jack’s name, but he could tell she knew that’s who he’d been talking about.

When it became apparent she wouldn’t be dissuaded from their plan, he’d given her as many painkillers as he dared, but no sedatives. He needed her lucid, because once he got her into life support unit, there were a few final things she was going to explain to him.

It had all gone smoothly enough, though it had definitely taken its toll on Lisa. She’d become alarmingly weak, so he’d kept up the sedatives all day, making sure she slept to regain her strength. Lisa had been right about one thing, however. Having her here in the hub made things much less stressful for him in the regard that he could duck down and check on her whenever he felt the need to make sure she was okay, instead of stewing in his worry for all hours of the workday and wondering if she was alright without him.

Once Lisa had been safely hooked up in the unit and sleeping, he’d then thoroughly erased what little CCTV footage he could find of him being in the hub so late, and double checked there was none of Lisa whatsoever. By the time he’d done that, he’d been just in time to change into a fresh suit and start the coffee as the others arrived. He’d snuck off into the archives during the early afternoon and slept for exactly two hours, but it hadn’t helped much and with Jack’s arrival from London immanent, he was feeling shattered.

Unfortunately, he didn’t envisage getting any decent sleep any time soon. He’d set up a camp bed in the corner of Lisa’s room, but doubted it would be very comfortable, and the fear of discovery would probably keep him awake long into the night. But they only needed to do this for a few short days, a week at the most. Once Lisa recovered from the taxation moving her had taken on her body, they could work out how to start reversing the process once and for all.

By his calculations, Jack should be here any second, so he went over to the coffee machine and started a fresh industrial-strength brew for Jack, making a second for himself. Just as he finished, the cog wheel door rolled out of place, the usual alarms echoing through the hub, followed by Jack’s voice.

“Hey kids, I’m home!”

The response from the rest of the team was underwhelming to say the least. Tosh said hello without glancing away from her computer, Owen grunted something that wasn’t even an actual word and Suzie didn’t answer at all.

“Come on, I bought souvenirs for you all!” Jack set his bag down on the couch and folded his arms over his chest when no one moved. “I guess no one wants their gifts, then.”

At this Owen looked over his shoulder. “If you brought me another one of those bloody teddy bears wearing the palace guard uniforms with the stupid black furry hats—”

“Nope.” Jack reached into his bag and pulled something out. “This time I bought you Paddington.”

Jack tossed the bear in the red hat and blue raincoat and it hit Owen in the chest before falling into his lap. The doctor picked up the small bear and looked at it with distaste.

“Jack, I’m not a kid and I didn’t even like Paddington when I _was_ a kid.” Nonetheless, Owen leaned over and wedged the bear underneath his screen next to another one about the same size, wearing the palace guard uniform Owen had obviously been talking about before. 

Ianto finished with the coffees and came down the steps as Jack pulled out a small replica of a red telephone box and set it on the corner of Tosh’s desk. Suzie got an umbrella with a Union Jack on it and as Ianto handed over Jack’s coffee, Jack held out a mug for him that said Keep Calm and Give Us A Cwtch.

He arched an eyebrow as he took the offered gift.

“This obviously didn’t come from London.”

Jack rocked back on his heels with a grin. “I saw it at a tourist shop near the Cardiff railway station when I was leaving yesterday.”

“I’m assuming you’ve been in Wales long enough to know what this means?” He set the mug on the now empty tray, trying not to read anything into it. He’d been trying to distance himself from Jack, especially now that Lisa was here and he was so close to saving her. He didn’t need Jack buying him silly gifts with suggestive slogans. And he certainly didn’t need to feel the warmth in the bottom of his stomach spreading out through the rest of his body.

“I’ve got some idea, yeah,” Jack said with a challenging tilt of his chin.

“Well, the thought was nice, but I’m afraid the mug will have to go away. Harassment, sir.”

As he went to walk away, Jack leaned in closer and the delicious scent of his pheromones wrapped around him.

“Too bad, I’ve missed you and those suits,” Jack said, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

He paused, his breath catching in his chest. He turned to look at Jack, finding him standing too close for comfort. “You were only gone one day.”

“Seemed like a lot longer,” Jack murmured, something in his gaze that Ianto didn't want to recognise, but sent his pulse skipping nonetheless.

“Oi, Ianto, where’s the rest of those chocolate biscuits from afternoon tea?” Owen’s shout pulled his attention away from Jack and he gave himself a mental slap.

“You ate them all, Owen,” he replied, hurrying back up to the kitchenette where he’d left his own coffee.

So much for distancing himself. Jack had been back hardly ten minutes and he was already forgetting himself. It was those damn pheromones. They had the power to scramble the thoughts of even the most well-intentioned person.

He grabbed his coffee and started an immediate retreat. “I’ll be in the archives if you need anything, sir.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Jack to reply, just hurried through the door that would take him down. Once he got into the dim corridors, he paused to make sure no one had followed him and then made his way to Lisa’s room. He checked all the equipment, surprised to see her vitals were already much stronger than he’d expected them to be. He then pulled over the rickety wooden chair to sit next to her as he sipped his coffee, savouring the momentary peace and quiet.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Lisa staring at him in silence. For a second, it had seemed her gaze was calculating, but then she smiled and he shook his head, telling himself he’d been imagining it.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be awake for another few hours.” He put his coffee aside and stood to brush a hand over her hair. “You seem stronger.”

“I feel stronger,” she replied.

He nodded, then leaned down to kiss her gently. “I’m glad to hear it. But Lisa, cariad, I’m a little worried. The machine is breathing for you now. What happens—”

“It’s okay.” Her fingers brushed the sleeve of his jacket, so he reached down and took her hand, squeezing affectionately. “Its what I need for now. When I’m stronger, the process can be reversed. But we’re going to need help from someone who knows a bit about this sort of thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. Until now she’d been adamant about keeping this between the two of them.

“There’s a doctor, a cybernetics expert who used to consult for Torchwood One. Doctor Tanizaki. I never met him, only heard about him from my friend Shelly in the tech division. But if anyone can reverse this now, it’s him.”

“Lisa—” He didn’t know what to say. Actually, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of Doctor Tanizaki himself. He’d met the man twice while working as Yvonne’s PA. Of course he would do anything to help her, but why couldn’t they have tracked down Doctor Tanizaki before now? Before he’d set her up in the hub? It was going to be so much harder to get the man into the hub than their flat. But he couldn’t voice any of the doubts. He’d promised he’d do everything he could to help her, and maybe she honestly hadn’t remembered until now because before she’d been traumatised, sleeping all the time, in a haze of medication and focused on staying alive. The unit had definitely made her stronger, so perhaps it had simply cleared her mind.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I met him a few times. I’ll look into contacting him tomorrow.”

She nodded and sent him a smile, seeming closer to her old self than she had in ages. It gave him hope that despite how he felt about all this, despite the lies and betrayals and sneaking around, it was all going to be worth it in the end.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack’s trip to London somehow brought about a kind of new routine to the hub. He and Ianto had settled into a causal if somewhat distant work relationship where Ianto became so good at his job, Jack barely even noticed he was around except to occasionally flirt with him when it was a slow day. Tosh was deep into some project which he only understood half of, so he decided it was probably better to save himself the headache and simply not ask. Owen had a few minor things going on and was still looking into Chandler and Bell between projects, thought the law firm seemed squeaky clean—too clean, if he wanted to make a cliché of it. Suzie was deep into her research on the glove and they’d figured out they needed the recently dead for the glove to work really well. Apparently the more violent the better, which had led to Ianto tracking police reports for them so they could crash crime scenes like uninvited party guests. Jack had to say, he was getting a kick out of the pained expressions on the officer’s faces whenever they rolled up in the SUV with the blue lights flashing.

However, this had the surprising outcome of Gwen Cooper. Like Ianto, at first he’d been intrigued by the stubborn, freckled police woman, even going so far as letting her into the hub. The idea of giving her a job had crossed his mind, and she’d taken the truth of the rift and alien life about how he’d expected. But he could also tell she was a little reckless—stumbling across the weevil and going out of her way to find them, leaving herself vulnerable in the process. If they were the kind of people that made other people disappear (well, okay, sometimes they did, but only when they really, _really_ had to) then Gwen would have been putting herself in serious danger with her tenacious pursuit of them.

So he’d retconned her, but then everything had gone to hell. Not only had Gwen broken through the retcon, she’d also nearly been killed by Suzie. He’d had no choice then, but to let Gwen into the fold. Well, he supposed he could have killed her or retconned her back to her teenage years then moved her to Australia, but something about her had struck a vulnerable spot within him he didn’t like to acknowledge all that often. Besides, her brash personality had reminded him a little of Rose. And after all that, he now had a gaping hole in his team that he wanted to fill quickly for some reason.

That night, when the truth of Suzie’s mental state had been revealed, Ianto had simply been there, the stalwart presence he’d come to rely on who took care of things before he could even think of them. Ianto had been the one to bring Suzie’s body down and prepare it for the morgue, then wash the copious amounts of blood off the Plass after two deaths. Whether Ianto had figured anything out about Jack’s secret, he never said, but Jack made sure he erased the CCTV footage of his resurrection as soon as possible.

Hours later, after everyone had gone home, Jack was still sitting at his desk and had thought he was alone until a coffee appeared at his elbow. He glanced up to see Ianto had turned away to file some papers.

“Thought you went home when everyone else did,” Jack said just to make conversation as he picked up the coffee, gratefully wrapping his hands around the mug, soaking in the warmth. Sometimes when he came back from being dead, he got a chill that lasted for hours.

“Had a few things to finish up,” Ianto answered as he pushed closed the filing draw. “I’m heading off now, though. Do you need anything else before I go?”

“No, you’ve done enough today.” He leaned back in his chair as Ianto started to step away from his desk. “Thank you, though. For everything you did tonight.”

Ianto inclined his head in that self-depreciating way he had. “Just doing my job, sir.”

No, it was more than that, but he was tired and couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t seem contrived.

As Ianto reached the doorway, he paused and looked back. “You’re really going to give her a job, then?”

Jack eyed Ianto, trying to get a read on him, which was pointless. The young Welshman was an expert at not giving anything away. “Why? You think I shouldn’t?”

“Not my place to have an opinion, sir,” Ianto replied smoothly. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

With that, Ianto stepped out of his office. A few moments later, the alarm sounded as the cog wheel door rolled out of place. Jack sipped his coffee, wondering what that had been about. Somehow, in the last week or two, Ianto had become more distant and inscrutable. Well, whatever was going on with Ianto, it would have to wait. Because now he had a new employee to train and despite her policing experience, Gwen Cooper had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very short so I'll be generous and post another chapter today!


	13. Chapter 13

The timing couldn’t have been better. Within a month of getting Lisa into the hub, Gwen had joined the team with all the subtly of a grenade. Jack was completely besotted with her, that much was obvious. Ianto was glad for it, because it meant Jack’s attention was focused elsewhere. Of course, it didn’t stop Jack from flirting with him, and now he had yet another person to lie to, another person to worry about discovering his secret. Negotiations with Doctor Tanizaki were going well, however, and Ianto was confident he’d soon be able to sneak the cybernetics expert into the hub and save Lisa once and for all.

Gwen’s beginning had been far from smooth. Her first day, she’d released a gaseous alien who’d killed over a dozen men. Even that had worked in his favour, though, which Ianto almost felt bad about. The team was so busy running around trying to contain the situation, they didn’t notice when Ianto disappeared for long stretches of time. As long as he occasionally appeared and did things like make coffee, offer hints he’d picked up from monitoring the emergency services and occasionally help like when he’d told them he’d go through the 119 possible CCTV matches as they’d been trying to identify Carys early on in the investigation, then the rest of the time, they clearly didn’t care where he was or what he was doing.

Finally, though, the situation had been contained and the team had returned to the hub, clearly exhausted since they’d been running on little sleep for several days. Jack told everyone to call it a night, then shut himself in his office, while Gwen awkwardly made an excuse and disappeared toward the bathrooms. Tosh and Owen didn’t seem to be in a huge hurry to go anywhere despite Jack’s order and didn’t notice Ianto where he was still packing up a few last things from Suzie’s workstation.

“What do you think Jack did to her?” Tosh suddenly asked Owen, making Ianto pause. “I mean, she was _glowing_. You saw that, right?”

“Yeah I saw it. Just put it down as one more weird and wonderful thing we don’t know about Jack bloody Harkness.” Owen arched a sardonic brow at Tosh. “Or maybe his kiss is just that good. Gwen certainly seemed keen to have a go.”

“I can’t believe she kissed him like that!” Tosh sounded both scandalized and impressed about Gwen apparently having kissed Jack.

What the hell was that about, anyway? He felt a weird twinge in his stomach that he ruthlessly pushed down.

“So what? Gwen kissed Carys too.” Owen sent her a smirk. “Worried you’re next? Or are you _hoping_ you’re next?”

“Owen,” Tosh admonished in exasperation. “No, I just mean… Well, it’s not very professional, is it? First week on the job and you snog the boss. And I thought she said she had a boyfriend.”

“Well, it can’t be a very serious boyfriend, can it?” Owen had sat at his workstation and kicked his legs up onto his desk. “Anyway, if we’re taking bets, I reckon Jack is more likely to shag Ianto. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you girls he’s gay.”

Ianto startled at his name and then shifted further back, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping now they were talking about him. Not that they were likely to notice him. Some days he could be standing right in front of them and feel completely invisible.

“You _really_ think so?” Tosh seemed to think about this for a minute. “Well, maybe Jack doesn't discern between gender. Like I said last night, I’ve seen him in action. I’m sure he’ll shag anyone gorgeous enough and you have to admit, Ianto is cute.”

“No, I really don’t,” Owen returned, sounding mildly disgusted.

“Do you think they already have?” Tosh asked, lowering her voice as if worried about being overheard. If only she knew.

“Who has what?” Owen replied, sounding bored now.

“Jack and Ianto. Do you think they shagged? I mean, for a while they were all kind of flirty, but now Ianto seems more interested in keeping to himself.”

“I think I don’t know and don’t care.” Owen suddenly stood. “I’m outta here, Tosh. Got to be a decent bird at a bar somewhere, even if it is Wednesday.”

“Think I’ll call it a night as well. Maybe have a glass of wine and a bath.” She stood and gathered her things.

“Sounds fun… if you’re fifty,” Owen teased as they walked toward the cog wheel door.

“Not everyone enjoys getting drunk and shagging strangers, Owen,” Tosh replied in an annoyed voice.

“No, just _most_ people,” Owen shot back.

If Tosh had a comeback for that, he didn’t hear it since the cog wheel door rolled shut behind them.

Ianto released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and decided to abandon his tidying up to check on Lisa instead. Jack had told them to take an early night, and if the way he’d closed himself in his office was any indication, clearly he was in the mood to be broody. Probably end up on a roof at some point tonight. They’d all learned Jack could be unpredictable when he got like that—sometimes he welcomed an interruption, but sometimes it was just asking to get your head bitten off.

As he headed toward the door to the archives, Gwen finally came out of the bathroom, still looking a bit out of sorts. But of course she didn’t notice him as she headed over to where she’d stuck up all the information about Carys while the investigation had been ongoing, then stood looking at it with a deep frown on her face. No doubt she was contemplating her mistake and all the deaths that had resulted. Jack had told her it wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t, not really. She couldn’t have known. Still, it was a costly lesson to learn and he hoped she caught on quickly—when it came to Torchwood, erring on the side of caution was _always_ a good idea.

Not that he could talk, since he had his half-converted girlfriend in the archives hooked up to what pretty much amounted to a conversion unit… just without the cutting bits.

Ianto quietly slipped through the door and headed down to Lisa’s room, not bothering to mask his movements. Most of the time he didn’t worry about it any longer. It’d been over a month since even Jack had bothered coming down here. Too bad if any of the poorly stacked shelves of alien junk ever collapsed on top of him, he’d definitely die before any of the team thought to come looking for him.

He shook his head, telling himself it didn’t matter and he didn’t care and he’d made it that way on purpose. Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to believe. Pausing outside of Lisa’s door, he took a breath, forcing the unhelpful thoughts and feelings of worthlessness aside as he stepped through and made sure he had a smile for her. Though initially she’d been stronger when they’d hooked her up to the unit, over the weeks, her body had steadily come to rely on the technology more and more. He was getting worried that by the time he finally got Doctor Tanizaki here, it would be too late to save Lisa. After everything, he couldn’t stand by and watch her die.

She was only half awake as he went over to her and seemed to be unsettled, probably in pain. He’d also had to increase her pain meds beyond what any normal human could usually endure, her cybernetic parts seemed to be metabolizing them faster and faster.

“Ianto?” she murmured, voice hoarse.

“I’m here. Shh, don’t talk. Save your energy.” He smoothed a hand over her brow and checked some of the readouts before carefully administering another dose of painkillers and sedative.

“It’s getting worse, Ianto,” she choked on a sob over his name and he shushed her, his own throat tightening as his eyes started stinging.

“You just have to hold on a little longer. We’re almost there. Doctor Tanizaki will be coming any time now.”

“What’s keeping him?” her voice was a little stronger over the demand, gaze sharpening on him for a moment.

Truthfully, he’d been trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation and negotiate a price he could afford to pay and Doctor Tanizaki would be happy to accept. He was using all of his life savings and then some—he’d even been thinking about selling his Audi, even though he loved the car. But he loved Lisa more, her life was worth more than any material object. If it came down to it, he’d do whatever it took to get the cybernetics expert here. There was also the issue of Doctor Tanizaki’s schedule.

“He’s busy, Lisa. Booked up for months in advance. We’ve asked him to come on such short notice. He’s doing his best to fit us into his schedule.” He lightly ran a hand over her cheek, sending her a reassuring look. “You’re strong, Lisa. So strong. I know you can hang on a little longer.”

She nodded, the action causing a few tears to spill down her cheeks. “It just hurts so much. I’m sorry.”

“I know, and you don’t ever have to apologise, not for that.” He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. “Try to get some sleep, now. You’ll feel better.”

She sighed and let her eyes slip closed. Ianto stood there, leaning against the side of the machine and watching her breathing even out until he was sure she was asleep. Quietly, he left the room, feeling guilty with every step. Just for tonight, he needed to go back to the flat and get away from it all—Lisa and Torchwood. It was all getting too much.

Outside in the corridor, however, he had to stop as his chest tightened, making his breathing choppy. Panic, he told himself distantly, feeling like the damp stone walls were closing in on him. He sank down into a crouch, forcing himself to breathe through it, not caring about the tears that trickled down his cheeks when he was no longer concentrating on holding them back.

God, he didn’t know how much longer he could do this. It was killing him, slowly but surely, he felt like every day he became hollower inside. Hope was getting harder and harder to hold onto, especially as Lisa got weaker. He just wished he wasn’t so bloody alone. Wished he could tell someone, that someone would swoop in and save him from the whole thing. That someone would take care of _him_ for a change. That someone—

That someone could make him feel something other than desolation and fear and anxiety every waking hour.

Someone like Jack.

Jack had made him feel something else, the first few weeks after he’d started, before he’d distanced himself for fear of being discovered. Though he hadn’t felt the urge in over a month, the temptation to go upstairs and tell Jack everything, unburden himself and consequences be damned, hit him so hard he was on his feet and hurrying out of the archives before he knew it. His mind had gone blank, he was simply putting one foot in front of the other with no idea what was going to happen when he finally got to the hub.

However, when he emerged through the door, voices pulled him up short. Gwen, talking to Jack. He hadn’t even considered that she still might be here. Her voice brought him out of the panic and he shifted back into the door way.

“Who are you, Jack?” Gwen was demanding, like she had every right to know. Jack deflected, of course. He was good at that.

“Do me a favour and hold onto to your life. Go home, Gwen Cooper, go home, kiss your boyfriend.”

Ianto retreated back into the archives, not wanting or needing to hear the rest of the conversation. Gwen might have kissed Jack earlier, but it seemed obvious to him that Jack was telling Gwen quite clearly that nothing was going to happen between them. Of course, whether or not Gwen chose to understand or listen was another matter. And if Jack kept trailing her with his bedroom eyes as he was so wont to do, then Gwen probably wouldn’t be discouraged in the least, from what Ianto had seen of her so far.

He went back down to the little office just off the archives he did all the sorting in and flicked on the computer to bring up CCTV of the hub. Gwen was just leaving, Jack’s gaze following after her in exactly the way Ianto had just been thinking, leaving him rolling his eyes. The man was so predictable. He settled down at the desk, planning to do some paper work while he waited for Jack to leave so he could sneak out himself and spend a few hours alone at his flat. Actually get some unbroken sleep for the first time in months—rift permitting, he supposed.

He picked up a pen and set his chin in his hand. But for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off the image of Jack on the CCTV footage.


	14. Chapter 14

Ianto didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The team were on edge over the ghost machine—some piece of tech Gwen had recovered that let a person see the echoes of strong emotions from the past. Owen was nearly an emotional wreck after experiencing a young girl raped and murdered, while Gwen’s vision had made her determined to save the day one way or another. Jack had his hands full managing the two of them while Tosh was simply doing her best to be useful. The only saving grace for Ianto was the fact that the team noticed him even less now. He hadn’t actually done anything useful besides make coffees and bring them food, throwing the occasional comment or suggestion into whatever conversation was going on around him. But even so, they probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d simply brought them coffee and disappeared again, which he had basically done a number of times in the past days.

Lisa was getting worse—periods of time where she was utterly exhausted for no reason, or stretches where she seemed to blank out and didn’t respond to anything, even when her eyes were open. He had adjusted her medication over and over, trying to find the right combination, but felt like he was fighting a losing battle while standing in quicksand. Thank God he’d finally locked Doctor Tanizaki into coming late next week. Eight days and this would all be over.

Ianto hurried down the corridor to Lisa’s room, wanting to check the newest dose of medication he’d administered, even though it’d only been half an hour since he’d checked on her. Usually he kept his visits an hour, if not two or three hours apart. But Jack had just rushed off with Owen, while Tosh was glued to the CCTV feeds—something about that Bernie Harris kid blackmailing Ed Morgan and seeing his own death. Whatever it was had deeply unsettled Gwen and now Jack seemed to be in a tizz over it as well, judging by the way he’d rushed out of the hub.

No one had given the slightest thought about what he was doing or even asking for his help. It stung—worse since Gwen had joined the team and monopolised so much of Jack’s time… Time Ianto used to spend with him. But he told himself for the millionth time it was better this way. Because when Doctor Tanizaki helped Lisa and they left this place, then maybe the team wouldn’t care enough to search all that hard. Sure, there were protocols and technically Jack would probably be obligated to track him down to retcon him. Except Jack had a rather lackadaisical approach to nearly all Torchwood procedures, so he really doubted the captain would be all that motivated to uphold the retconning of errant employees… He hoped.

As he turned the corner leading to the corridor of Lisa’s room, he heard a repetitive clanging noise and paused, his mind going blank for a long moment as pure fear erupted in his veins—that sound was straight out of his nightmares. Except after a strangled breath, he belatedly realised it could only mean one thing.

He broke into a run, expecting it, but unable to believe his eyes as he saw Lisa slowly but methodically walking along the passageway, one echoing footstep at a time.

“Lisa!” He stopping in front of her, desperately catching her arm, worrying she would collapse at any moment. “What are you doing?”

Her head turned, the movement almost not human, and stared at him blankly.

“Lisa?” He cupped her face, willing some recognition into her eyes. “Come on, you need to get back to—”

He stuttered, almost saying the word _bed_ , and not knowing how to finish that sentence. But it didn’t seem to matter, because he didn’t think she’d even heard him. Was this why she’d seemed so exhausted sometimes? Had she been up and walking around without him realising it? Thank God none of the team ever came down here. He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if one of them had discovered her—especially Jack. But what the hell was he going to do about this? Stress and apprehension made his entire body feel stiff. He couldn’t be down here twenty-four-hours a day for the next eight days until Doctor Tanizaki arrived. There was an obvious answer, but it made his throat tighten and self-loathing lash at him as he settled Lisa back into the unit and set about reconnecting all the leads and monitors she’d evidently disconnected and carefully set aside like she’d been fully aware of what she was doing. He didn’t let himself think about it or the implications, instead he gave her a stronger dose of sedatives and then left the room, heading to a supply closet and taking out a toolbox, before rummaging around and finding what he needed.

He returned to the corridor outside Lisa’s room and stared at the heavy wooden door for a few long moments, a few stray tears sliding down his face. He hated this. He hated who this had made him become. Someone who lied and deceived and didn’t even recognise himself any longer. Someone who thought it was perfectly reasonable to lock the woman he loved into a dingy room deep in the bowels of a cold, damp mausoleum.

His throat tightened, the tears threatening to overwhelm him, so he blanked his mind in the way he was getting so good at and stepped forward, concentrating on one step at a time as he fitted the bolt, lined up the catch, tightened the screws, then listened to the slide of metal on metal as he secured the latch of the lock. When he was done, he turned to lean heavily against the door, silently apologising to her over and over in his mind.

He dropped his chin to stare at the ground, tears dribbling down his face. Slowly, he slid to the floor and put his head into his hands, a feeling of utter defeat crashing down on him. God, he’d locked her in. What sort of person did that to someone they loved? But she wasn’t herself, and he couldn’t risk anyone else finding her. The others might not ever come down here, but what if she managed to make it all the way up into the hub? He couldn’t risk it, not when they were so close.

Eight days. He just had to last eight more days, then Doctor Tanizaki would be here, Lisa would start getting better and they could leave Cardiff far behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this chapter because I always found it interesting in the Cyberwoman episode, when Ianto first takes Dr Tanizaki down to Lisa, they pause in front of the door. Ianto unlocks it with a key, but then there's also a decent sized bolt lock as well, which he slowly unlocks after telling Dr Tanizaki "I did everything I could." I wondered why it needed to be latched from the outside as well as locked with the key, even though Lisa didn't seem strong enough to leave the conversion unit on her own. Once again, just filling in some questions for myself :)


	15. Chapter 15

Following the ghost machine incident, Jack was thanking his lucky stars that the week had been relatively quiet—only the most minor rift activity spitting out unimportant junk and the occasional weevil sighting meant the team was getting some much needed down-time after the emotional battering they’d taken.

It was the middle of the week when Ianto silently handed out lunch to everyone at their desks that Jack realised he’d barely seen anything of the younger man the past few weeks since Gwen had started. The new recruit had taken up more of his attention than he’d anticipated. As Ianto handed him a sandwich, Jack noticed there was nothing else left in the bag. Not only that, but Ianto was looking a little pale and… had he lost weight? Jack couldn’t say for sure. Though he’d always appreciated Ianto in those suits, he’d never studied him closely enough to be able to estimate how much he weighed.

“Mmm, chicken club, my favourite,” Jack commented as he tugged at the wrapper. “What’ve you got?”

Ianto paused, almost seeming surprised at the question, but then sent him a wan smile. “Not much of an appetite today, sir.”

“You should eat something, though. Wanna share?” He held up the sandwich, trying to remember the last time he’d actually seen Ianto eat, not just handing out food to the team or inhaling his coffee.

Ianto made a faintly unpleasant expression, as though he had an upset stomach and the thought of food was making it worse. “I’m fine, thank you. The others were talking about getting pizza tonight, I’ll have my usual pepperoni then.”

“You should eat more vegetables.” Jack eyed his pale complexion. Maybe that was the problem—he was eating, just not the right type of foods. He probably also spent too much time in the dim archives and he knew for a fact that Ianto got here before the sun came up almost every day and left well after the sun went down. “And get some fresh air and sunshine. Now!”

He jumped to his feet, warming to the idea.

“Excuse me?” Ianto looked just short of horrified.

“Outside. You know, the place that’s opposite to inside the hub?” Jack went over and got his coat down from the stand, quickly shrugging into it. “When was the last time you saw the sun?”

Ianto sent him an exasperate look. “I’m not likely to see it today. It’s bucketing down out there.”

Jack shrugged. “So we’ll get a little wet. Nothing a change of clothes won’t fix.”

Panic edged into Ianto’s expression. “Sir, there’s filing to be done and the archives—”

“Will still be there when we get back. A walk, Ianto. Fresh air. Consider it an order.”

Ianto dropped his head. “Yes, sir.”

Jack caught his elbow, just in case he decided to make a run for it, and steered him out of his office.

“We’re off for a walk. On comms if you need us!” he called cheerily to the rest of the team.

They all looked at him with dubious expressions, as if doubting his sanity or intelligence. Probably both.

“You do realise it’s pissing down rain out there?” Owen demanded around a mouthful of what looked to be some kind of meatball sandwich.

“It’s Wales. Tell me how I’m supposed to be surprised about that.” He tugged on Ianto’s arm, who was definitely dragging his feet. “We won’t be long. Just going along the quay and back.”

No one answered, apparently having lost interest in his sudden desire for a walk.

Ianto didn’t say a word as they went up the elevator to the tourist office. He paused to put a thicker coat over his suit jacket, then wrap a scarf around his neck, ruefully staring down at his dress shoes as though pitying their demise at the mercy of Cardiff’s weather.

When he was finally ready, Jack pulled open the door to the tourist office and then paused, debating the wisdom of his plans after all. He was used to rain, he had been in this damned wet country for over a hundred years, after all. But the rain really was pounding down. A kind of plastic poofing noise sounded next to him and he glanced over to see Ianto had popped a large black umbrella.

“I believe we’ll need this, sir.” Ianto held it out, but instead of taking it, Jack wrapped a hand around his arm and pulled him close until their shoulders were pressed together. Ianto stared at him, their faces only a few inches apart, and Jack was suddenly remembering the feel of Ianto laying on top of him the night they’d captured Myfanwy.

“What would I do without you, Ianto?” Jack sent him a smile, more than a little truth to the words.

“I shudder to think,” Ianto replied, cutting his gaze away to stare out at the pouring rain.

As he took a moment to study Ianto’s profile—the light from the open door catching the pure blue of his eyes, his cute, slightly upturned nose, and _those lips_ —Jack let the truth of his own words sink in. He had no idea how he’d managed without Ianto before he’d turned up, determined to have a job. Things were just easier with him around. Not even taking into account everything Ianto did to keep the hub running smoothly, his mere presence had become a source of relief. Knowing that Ianto would be here, day in, day out, that he could rely on Ianto without question had eased a tension inside him he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying.

The rest of the team kept him on his toes—Gwen was new and her passion was liberally applied in all directions with little thought to long term consequences. Eventually she’d make one hell of a Torchwood operative, but in the meantime, he had to make sure she didn’t get herself or anyone else killed. Owen was like living with a live grenade—never knew when he was going to suddenly go off. Though the doctor was reliable in any kind of medical situation, the rest of the time, Jack was trying to make sure something didn’t send him off the rails like he almost had with the ghost machine. Tosh was stronger than anyone gave her credit for, but she was also technically his responsibility. And for some reason, he felt beholden to always ensure she was happy. Well, as happy as someone living in constant apprehension of being imprisoned by UNIT once again could be.

Ianto was the only one he didn’t have to worry about. The one he didn’t have to think twice about how he’d react to any given situation. Ianto was easy and reliable and gorgeous and not for the first time, Jack was infinitely glad the young man had pestered him into a job.

“So, are we going to take this walk you insisted on, or not?” Ianto finally turned to look back at him, one eyebrow slightly raised as if in challenge.

He grinned, actually relaxing for the first time since that terrible night with Suzie when Gwen had joined the team. “After you.”

Ianto nodded and stepped forward, surprisingly not removing his arm from Jack’s hold. He held the umbrella aloft as they left the shelter of the doorway, and let Jack pull him closer again as they pressed together around the handle. They set off along the quay, rain pounding down on the boards. There wasn’t another single person to be seen, and the grey haze of the thick rain blended with the dark grey clouds and the muted green-grey of the bay water. It was chilly, however, he felt Ianto relaxing as they strolled, some of the tension seeming to leave his shoulders.

“Getting out of the hub might have been a good idea after all,” Ianto murmured, staring out across the bay.

“See? I’m not just a pretty face. Though, my face is _very_ pretty.”

Ianto cut him an exasperated look, but then a smiled slipped over his features. “I guess there are some facts that are impossible to deny.”

“Why, Ianto Jones, are you actually agreeing that I have a pretty face?” He leaned in a little closer, letting a hint of flirtatiousness into his tone.

“When you work it out, do let me know,” Ianto returned with a perfectly straight face, but Jack caught the gleam in his gaze.

He sighed, enjoying the press of Ianto’s body into his as they strolled along at an unhurried pace. Somehow, it felt like he’d completely missed Ianto the past few weeks, even though he’d been right under his nose the entire time. Too many things keeping him distracted. But he enjoyed these easy, quiet moments. Maybe he needed to make an effort to spend more time with him. Needed someone reliable and steadfast like Ianto who wouldn’t ever cause him any trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points to any fans who noticed the reference to Cyberwoman where Ianto says "my boss says I need to eat more vegetables" when he orders the pizza :D


	16. Chapter 16

Jack stared at Ianto kneeling on the floor, the scent of blood heavy in the cool, damp air. With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, he looked defeated. Broken. He wasn’t crying anymore, not like he had been when Jack and the rest of the team had walked in moments ago and shot the poor pizza girl Lisa had transplanted her brain into. Then, Ianto had been sobbing, clearly unable to do as Jack had ordered and kill her, despite the monster she’d so obviously become.

“Owen, Tosh, I need the two of you to take care of the bodies and start dismantling the conversion unit. It all needs to go into the incinerator. Burn everything,” he said, his own voice hoarse. “Gwen, I need you to start working on covering up the deaths, both the delivery girl and whoever it was Ianto let into the hub earlier tonight.”

“What are you going to do?” Gwen asked in a tight voice.

“Someone needs to take care of Ianto,” he replied, not taking his gaze off his general administrator who hadn’t moved despite the conversation going on around him.

“Jack, he loved her. He was just trying to save her. You can’t—”

He cut Gwen a furious glare. “I can do whatever the hell I want, Gwen. He knows the price of betraying Torchwood.”

At this, Ianto gave a strangled sob, hunching further in on himself.

“You have your orders,” he told them, even as Gwen opened her mouth like she was still going to argue on Ianto’s behalf. When he just continued glaring at her, she finally turned to head back up into the hub while Owen and Tosh carefully started moving around Ianto, making sure they didn’t look directly at him.

Jack walked over with measured steps and landed a heavy hand on Ianto’s shoulder. He flinched, but otherwise didn’t move from where he was kneeling.

“Ianto,” he said after a moment when it was clear he wasn’t going to get up.

“Just get it over with,” Ianto said in a flat voice, devoid of emotion. “I couldn’t kill her. I was supposed to save her. But she’s dead. They’re all dead because of me. It’s all my fault. Please, just kill me. It’s what I deserve.”

Owen and Tosh had paused what they were doing. Owen was looking on the verge of saying something, but Tosh turned away, tears rolling down her face.

Jack shifted around to crouch down in front of the younger man. Even though the heat of Ianto’s complete betrayal was still burning through him, he was already regretting the rash threat to execute him. Ianto had to know he would never go through with it, didn’t he? He’d let his emotions overwhelm him, he’d been hurt and furious—still was, truthfully. He’d be well within his rights to execute or retcon Ianto right this minute. If UNIT got wind of this, Ianto would never see daylight again. And if it had been anyone else but Ianto, he might have already done it.

 _Anyone else but Ianto_.

His entire chest was aching from a sharp pain radiating out from his heart. Ianto’s accusation, demanding to know when Jack had last asked him about his life. Telling him he was a monster— It all hit too close to home. Because Ianto was right. Underneath it all, he was a monster, no matter how he tried to leave it all in his past. There was no escaping the things he’d done. Yet, there was part of him that wanted to prove to himself, prove to Ianto, prove to them all he was better than that. He wasn’t a monster anymore. He could choose not to be a monster as easily as he could decide to play his role as Torchwood’s director and have Ianto retconned or locked up or simply executed. But if he’d wanted Ianto dead, he wouldn’t have bothered reviving him, using some of his life force to bring the young man back from the brink of death.

“Ianto, you can’t stay here. You need to get up and come with me.”

Ianto gave a jerky nod, not meeting his eye. As he got unsteadily to his feet, Jack tried to help him, but he lurched out Jack’s hold, wrapping his arms around himself, tears silently trickling down his face.

Jack glanced at Tosh and Owen who were both watching him warily. “I’ll come back and help dismantle the unit in a little while.”

Owen nodded and got to work, angrily kicking over an IV stand and then knocking some kind of monitor off a table. Tosh jumped as the noise, but then busied herself methodically pulling cables from the side of the conversion machine.

As he turned, he automatically started to reach for Ianto again, but he shifted out of Jack’s reach, still not meeting his eyes. Jack sighed and left the room, assuming Ianto would follow him. He didn’t really know what he was going to do if he didn’t.

However, Ianto came after him like a silent shadow, arms still wrapped around himself as shivers shook his body every now and then. Jack headed toward the hub, but detoured to the change rooms before he got there. He walked into the large space where there were half a dozen shower stalls separated by partitions, exposed copper pipes and white tiles the same as they’d been for decades. On the far wall was a row of lockers and Jack immediately went over to Ianto’s locker to see what spare clothes he had stashed in there. Unsurprisingly, there was an entire suit hanging up, complete with socks and shoes. He grabbed a pair of tracksuit bottoms he’d never seen Ianto wear and a hooded jumper, then closed the locker door, before shifting sideways to grab a T-shirt out of his own locker. Ianto was hovering at the doorway, his occasional shivers having turned into full trembles. He was probably freezing from his suit being wet, but some of it was no doubt shock as well.

“You need to get those wet clothes off. Take a shower, you’ll feel better.”

Ianto didn’t move or respond, just stood there staring at the floor. Jack wasn’t even sure Ianto had heard him.

He closed the distance between them and when he stopped in front of him, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before slowly reaching out and touching his fingers to Ianto’s chin, tipping his face up. There was a streak of blood on the left side of his neck—not his—and blood was smeared from the graze just above his right eyebrow and high on his cheek from when Lisa had tossed him halfway across the hub. Ianto’s blue eyes were filled with so much pain, it made his breath catch in his chest.

God, why did this have to happen? First Suzie, now this. And this was so much worse. When had he completely lost sight of the small things? He’d always prided himself on being able to read people, yet Ianto had been hiding from him all along. Maybe if he’d made more of an effort with Ianto, asked about Canary Wharf instead of avoiding the painful subject, Ianto would have trusted him enough to tell him the truth and ask for help. All of this could have been avoided.

The last of his anger burned to ash and collapsed in on itself, scattering to nothing. The hurt, the betrayal—that was going to take longer to get over. But he couldn’t stay angry at Ianto, not when he’d made so many of his own mistakes that had led them here.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said gently.

Ianto stared at him like he didn’t understand. “Aren’t you going to— You said—”

He slid his hand from Ianto’s chin to cup his neck. “Damn it, Ianto. Do you really think I could ever kill you?”

Fresh tears filled his eyes and he shook his head desperately. “No, Jack, please, not retcon. Don’t make me forget her—”

“Stop,” he said, dragging a thumb over Ianto’s cheek though the tracks of tears—new and old. “No retcon either. Not even if you asked me for it.”

“But the Torchwood protocols—”

“The protocols can go to hell. I _am_ Torchwood now and if I don’t want to follow a policy written by a bunch of bureaucratic morons, then I’m not going to.”

Ianto’s breath was coming shorter and shorter, as if he was a second away from a panic attack. “Then what—”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Right now, I just want to get you out of these wet clothes and cleaned up.”

A cry choked Ianto and he started to crumple forward like the last of the fight had finally gone out of him. Jack caught him against his chest as he cried, barely able to draw breath between shuddering sobs that wracked his entire body. Jack held onto him as they sunk to the floor, the tears he’d been holding back between bouts of shock and fury since he’d realised the truth of Ianto’s treachery finally getting the better of him.

He cradled Ianto’s head against his chest and buried his face in Ianto’s hair, letting the hurt consume him, letting the tears flow freely in the vain hope it would take the edge off the pain of betrayal throbbing relentlessly through him.

No, he couldn’t hurt Ianto, no matter how Ianto had hurt him. Couldn’t retcon him, definitely couldn’t execute him in cold blood. Couldn’t let him go, truth be told. He had no idea how he was going to fix this, and didn’t know if he could. Didn’t know if Ianto wanted him to. Worst of all, he didn’t really know Ianto at all. The only thing he did know was that it had been a long time since he was so afraid of losing someone. And he was desperately trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe he already had.


	17. Chapter 17

Ianto didn’t know how much time had passed, only that he was exhausted—physically and emotionally—his clothes were cold and wet, and his muscles were stiff and aching. Except despite all that, he was weirdly comfortable and couldn’t imagine mustering the energy to ever get up again.

The tears had subsided awhile ago, but he hadn’t moved from Jack’s hold, not when he’d realised Jack was crying silently above him. He’d tentatively slid his arms around Jack's waist and held on, keeping his face buried in his neck. Eventually Jack had settled as well, and then they’d just sat there holding one another, neither willing to say anything or move.

Ianto couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him close like this. He started trying to recall the last day he and Lisa had curled up on the couch together, but it hurt too much, so he buried the thoughts and kept his mind stubbornly blank.

Unfortunately, things started creeping back in, like guilt from the fact he was so readily—almost desperately—taking comfort from the man who’d killed the woman he’d loved less than an hour ago. The thought made his stomach start churning and the nausea he’d been living with for weeks and weeks returned stronger than ever.

He pushed out of Jack’s hold, startling the other man, and got unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled into the nearby toilet, stomach convulsing so hard it hurt. But there wasn’t anything to bring up since he didn’t know when he’d eaten last. Still didn’t stop his body from trying, however. After a moment, a warm hand landed on the back of his neck.

“Try to take a breath, Ianto,” Jack murmured. His soothing voice broke through the haze and he did as Jack had told him, gasping in a long pull of air and sitting back as his stomach settled a little. Jack pressed a glass of water into his hand and he took it, gulping down the entire contents, even though he was kind of worried it might come straight back up again.

“Come on, you need to get cleaned up before you get really sick.”

Jack helped him to his feet and steered him over to the shower cubicles. Ianto felt like he was on autopilot. He felt completely empty, like there was nothing of himself left inside his own body. But the numbness was a blessing compared to the pain from before.

He stood there, watching blankly as Jack turned on the taps and adjusted the water temperature, filling the air with steam. When he was apparently satisfied, Jack turned to look at him expectantly. He had the distant thought that he probably should make some effort, so started tugging at his suit jacket. Except somehow it got stuck and his arms didn’t seem to be cooperating anyway. Jack stepped forward without a word and efficiently helped him strip out of his wet, bloodied clothes, actions and expression completely impersonal. Not that Ianto could meet his gaze in that moment.

Jack urged him into the shower spray, and the shock of hot water on his skin woke up at least part of his brain. He automatically picked up the soap and started washing away the sweat and grime. When he glanced down at his feet, he saw rivulets of red running through the water, and it was enough to bring back the burn of tears. Except he’d cried himself out in Jacks arms earlier, expending most of the raw grief. These tears were more about feeling sorry for himself. Feeling utterly, wholly, unendingly pathetic.

“Come on, this’ll go faster if you let me help.” A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he stiffened slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack had dressed down to his pants and the plain white t-shirt he usually wore under his shirts.

Ianto didn’t agree, but he didn’t refuse either, and after a moment, Jack leaned past him to grab the shampoo. Ianto closed his eyes as Jack’s fingers slid soapy through his wet hair. It was easier to be in the dark behind his eyelids, to not have to face the fact he was incapable of doing anything right now and the burn of guilt that he was grateful Jack was so effectively taking care of him.

After a few silent moments, Jack murmured for him to shift directly into the spray and rinsed the suds out. Next, Jack shut off the water, then a towel settled around his shoulders. Ianto opened his eyes, taking hold of the material before Jack could start drying him. He needed to get some small measure of control back. However, Jack had already turned and walked away from him. Ianto stood there, dripping and shivering slightly, watching as Jack used a smaller towel to dab at the few damp spots on his own skin and clothes, and then dressed in a clean shirt and trousers. When he was done, Jack looked back at him, expression composed and cool, like they hadn’t been sitting on the floor crying together less than half an hour ago.

“I’ll be waiting in my office. I’d suggest putting on something comfortable like the tracksuit. Come find me when you’re done.”

He sent Jack a jerky nod, gripping the edges of the towel more tightly. Jack had already said he couldn’t kill him and wouldn’t retcon him even if he asked for it. But no doubt Jack would still find a way to punish him. He had to. Ianto’s transgression had been too great. Oh God, what if Jack fired him? It was unheard of—anyone being fired from Torchwood and keeping their memories. But this wasn’t One and Jack was constantly reinventing the wheel to suit his own purposes.

He didn’t let himself think about it—whatever _it_ was going to be, he deserved every second of guilt and humiliation. He also didn’t let himself think about why Jack had suggested to dress in something comfortable instead of his usual suit. It didn’t take long to towel himself off and pull on the tracksuit bottoms, plain t-shirt that wasn’t his and smelled faintly of Jack, then the hoodie he’d stuffed in his locker at some point for some reason and never worn. He put on a pair of socks but went without shoes. The black dress shoes he’d been wearing were probably ruined—wet and bloody—and though he had a spare pair, putting them on with the tracksuit bottoms was a level of ridiculous he couldn’t fathom even in his current state.

He made his way slowly out to the main atrium of the hub. The place was a mess and he didn’t let his gaze linger on the streaks of blood from when—

God, he hoped Lisa hadn’t hurt Myfanwy. He’d never forgive himself if the pterodactyl—which was actually a pteranodon if they were being technical—had been seriously injured because of him.

Gwen was setting a few things to right here and there, while Tosh and Owen were nowhere to be seen. He vaguely remembered Jack giving them orders for dealing with the room downstairs. Maybe that was going to be Jack’s punishment; sending the others home and leaving Ianto to clean up alone. It was his mess, so it certainly wouldn’t an unreasonable order.

Ianto stepped into Jack’s office and found him sitting on the edge of his desk, syringe in hand and small vial clearly pilfered from Owen’s medbay in the other hand. Ianto pulled up short, a million scenarios crashing through his mind as to what Jack could have in the vial, if not retcon.

“Climb down.” Jack nodded toward his bunker where the hatchway stood open.

“But—What—” His brain was failing to come up with any coherent words.

Jack pushed to his feet and came closer. “We can do this on the couch, if you prefer. I just thought a bed might be more comfortable and us cleaning up around you is probably going to be noisy.”

“Jack.” His confusion and inability to vocalise anything must have come through in that single word, as Jack’s expression softened slightly.

“It’s a sedative, Ianto. You’re exhausted; physically as well as emotionally. You need to sleep, but right now, I can’t trust either you or myself to let you go home. But, I also need time to figure out what I’m going to do with you. The best solution I could come up with was a sedative and a few hours rest for you. Out of the way.”

“In your bed.” He didn’t mean to sound as worried about the prospect as he did, but there was no hiding it.

Jack’s brow creased as he sent him a wary look. “I told you, we can do this on the couch if you’d prefer.”

“No, it’s fine. He shook his head and strode toward the ladder as his mind tried to wrap itself around the fact that Jack was still trying to look after him, not punish him like he’d expected. Of course, he supposed in a twisted way, it could be viewed as a kind of punishment—Jack was putting him asleep for several hours so he didn’t have to deal with him. But Jack had also been right, he was exhausted and a few hours’ sleep sounded like the perfect escape from reality, even if he didn’t deserve it.


	18. Chapter 18

Jack followed Ianto down into the bunker, hanging back as he walked haltingly over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Ianto clasped his hands, posture rigid, looking uncomfortable even though he’d been down here a million times before, taking care of his dry-cleaning and keeping the bunker tidied the same as he did for the rest of the hub.

But, Jack supposed in all of those times, Ianto had never stopped to sit down on the bed.

“You might want to get comfortable,” he said, trying to sound no-nonsense and detached as he crossed the short space between them. “I think Owen added something alien-extra to this sedative, so I don’t know how fast it’ll work.”

Ianto nodded and slowly swung his legs up on the bed, but stayed sitting up against the wall at the top of the mattress, the pillows bunched up behind him.

“Arm?” Ianto asked. “Or…”

Jack nodded at the _or_ , so Ianto half rolled over and pushed down the elastic waistband of the tracksuit bottoms, exposing a flawless expanse of perfect, pale skin of his upper thigh. Jack swallowed, carefully keeping his thoughts blank as he quickly inserted the needle and then pressed a small cotton swab over the drop of blood a moment after.

“Done,” he murmured, shifting away a little as Ianto returned to lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“How long will it last?” Ianto asked without meeting his eyes.

“Owen said six to eight hours.”

“Then what?” Ianto’s question came out so quietly, Jack almost didn’t hear it.

“Then we work out where we go from here.”

Ianto finally looked at him, but his eyes were studiously blank.

“We?” he repeated.

“You’re part of this team. I gave you a job. I let you into the hub. I didn’t see—” He cut himself off abruptly and glanced away from Ianto, struggling to contain the guilt and residual anger burning in his chest. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he’d played his part in this mess. He couldn’t pretend this was all Ianto’s fault.

_Like you care… When did you last ask me anything about my life?_

He’d taken Ianto for granted. Him and the rest of the team. And he couldn’t blame the others either. Lead by example. They’d simply followed his cue and treated Ianto like the paid help. Always in the background, never quite part of the team.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Ianto said, his voice catching on the words.

He took a calming breath and returned his gaze to Ianto, finding him staring with a hint of desperation in his eyes, but the slightly unfocused quality told him Owen’s sedative was beginning to kick in.

“Just rest now.”

He started to get up, but Ianto grabbed his hand.

“Wait, you don’t hate me, do you?” His words were a little slurred, eyes blinking slowly and Jack wondered if he even knew what he was saying. “I’ve lost everything. I’ve got nothing left. If you hate me, I don’t know what—”

Jack shushed him gently and reached out to stroke a hand down his face, making Ianto close his eyes. He didn’t open them again.

“You’ve hurt me, Ianto, in a way no one’s hurt me in a long time,” he whispered in return, even though he was fairly sure Ianto had succumb to the sedative. “But I couldn’t ever hate you.”

“Forgive me?” Ianto murmured sleepily, surprising him, though he doubted Ianto would even remember this conversation. 

“Always,” he replied, meaning every syllable.

Forgiveness was one thing he’d learned was necessary over his long years of life. He literally had forever stretched out in front of him, while the people around him, the people he cared about, their life spans were so short in comparison. He wasn’t going to waste their comparatively short lives holding grudges against them when they made mistakes—honest mistake or not. It didn’t matter. If they regretted their actions, if they wanted forgiveness from him, he would give it immediately and without reservation.

 He sat there for another few moments, watching Ianto breathe, holding his hand, tracing the scrapes over his face from when Lisa had tossed him halfway across the hub, noting the way Ianto’s expression was still tense and drawn, even in sleep. Undoubtedly it would be an uneasy sleep, but he needed the rest and Jack needed the time to get his thoughts in order.

With a sigh, he climbed the ladder out of the bunker and then surveyed the mess left over from the cyber-rampage. There was no denying Ianto needed to be punished for this. It was a grievous betrayal in trust, not to mention the danger he’d unwittingly put the entire world in. The team would expect it—hell, the team were probably expecting him to retcon any memory of Torchwood—One or Three—from Ianto’s memories and send him somewhere far away like Australia to live in ignorance for the rest of his life.

Except he honestly wasn’t sure what the right move to make was. Not like Torchwood had ever written a protocol for an employee harbouring a half-converted cyber-girlfriend in the basement. Yvonne Hartman probably would have had him killed. Oh, she would have made it look like an accident, but either way, Ianto wouldn’t have survived this kind of insubordination if Yvonne had still been around. If UNIT found out, they’d probably lock him up in that same horrible place he’d liberated Tosh from three years ago. He had to keep this in-house and make sure the rest of the team never breathed a word of it to anyone, not even Archie up at Torchwood Two.

Silently, he joined Gwen where she was righting some equipment that’d been knocked over. She cast him a wary look and small, hesitant smile, but didn’t say anything, just kept putting things to rights, even though she had to be exhausted—it’d already been a long night.

As he worked, he returned his thoughts to the man currently sleeping in his bed. A few weeks’ suspension seemed like the most obvious solution, but he honestly wasn’t confident in Ianto’s state of mind. What if leaving him alone with nothing to do for weeks on end impacted on his mental health even worse than Canary Wharf and this night with Lisa already had? Plus, with the lack of trust between them, Jack also knew himself well enough to realise he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his own work if he didn’t know where Ianto was or what he was doing at all times.

So, what then, did he lock Ianto in the vaults for a set amount of time? The idea made him feel slightly nauseous, so he discarded it immediately and continued hashing out his options.

The hours crept by as he worked with Gwen for a while, then went down to help Owen get the larger pieces of the conversion unit into the incinerator and make sure absolutely everything burned. Owen asked about doing an autopsy on Lisa’s body, but he immediately quashed the idea, telling Owen anything to do with the cybermen was too dangerous to keep around. He ignored the voice in the back of his mind telling him that autopsying Lisa’s body would be some final kind of insult to Ianto he didn’t want to inflict on the younger man.

After everything down in the room was taken care of, he Owen and Tosh went back up into the hub and finished helping Gwen until there was no longer any sign that anything had even happened. It was almost dawn when he finally sent them all home. None of them dared asked him what he’d done with Ianto. Of course, Owen knew he’d requested the sedative, so he supposed they’d drawn their own conclusions.

Exhausted himself, Jack had climbed down into his bunker before he remembered Ianto was already taking up his bed. He sighed and leaned against the ladder, debating what to do. Honestly, he didn’t think he could be bothered even climbing back up to crash on the couch. Instead he slid down to sit on the floor with his back against the uncomfortable rungs behind him.

He swore he’d only just closed his eyes a moment ago when someone gently shook him awake, murmuring his name. Blinking his eyes open, he stared up at Ianto in confusion, wondering why he was sitting on the floor and caught by how deep Ianto’s blue eyes looked in the dim light. The skip of his heart jogged his memory as everything that’d happened the previous night came flooding back.

“You should be in bed,” Ianto said, a slight hint of colour on his cheeks as if he was embarrassed or ashamed.

“It was already occupied.” He braced his hands on the ladder behind him and got to his feet, trying not to wince at the various aches from dozing off upright on the cold concrete floor.

“Sorry, you should have just kicked me out.” Ianto also stood and uneasily shifted to put some more distance between them.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t sleep much anyway,” he replied, leaving silence to fall between them while they alternated between avoiding each other’s gaze and snatching looks at one another.

“Well, I should—” Ianto motioned toward the ladder Jack was still standing in front of.

“Of course.” Jack side-stepped out of the way. “Just don’t leave the hub. Not yet.”

Ianto paused as he reached for the rungs, shoulders getting tight, but then he nodded before quickly climbing up and disappearing through the hatch.

Jack released a long breath, trying to force some of the tension to go with it as he dragged a hand over his face. He debated going to bed, but as he checked the time, he saw he’d actually been asleep for four hours—the stiffness in his back and neck attesting to that—and now he was awake, his thoughts had started spinning in his mind again and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to rest.  

He took a quick shower in the ensuite bathroom attached to his bunker and put on fresh clothes before heading up into the hub. Ianto was nowhere to be seen and a quick check of the CCTV cameras revealed he had already changed into his spare suit and was sorting something in the tourist office, his movements a little slower, a little more stilted, a little less graceful than they usually were.

When the door alarms sounded, he wasn’t really surprised and stepped out of his office to see Gwen walking in. He headed up to the conference room. He’d set out the papers late last night for the blemish that would now be on Ianto’s impeccable Torchwood records; his own report as head of the Torchwood Institute. Confession to be signed by Ianto. Documentation of disciplinary action taken. Ianto’s agreement to said disciplinary action. He hadn’t wanted to do this in the office, preferring these unpleasant situations to be taken care of on the mutual ground the conference room represented. The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder to see Gwen walk in.

“Thought I sent you home,” he commented, not bothering to hide the weary note in his own voice.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Just kept thinking about everything.”

Jack turned from the table to stand at the conference room windows. Even though everything was back to normal, in his mind’s eye he could still see the streaks of blood. Hear the clang of the heavily metal footsteps. See Ianto’s devastated expression as his world came crashing down. Feel the volts of energy sizzling through every nerve ending as he died over and over to protect his team.

The door alarms sounded again and Ianto walked in, posture stiff, almost defensive as if he expected the worst. He took a few hesitant steps and then glanced up as if sensing Jack’s gaze on him. He seemed to be looking for something, some sign of what he was meant to do with himself. Jack sent him a reassuring nod, and Ianto returned it with a shallow one of his own, before moving off to collect a black plastic sack to pick up what little rubbish had been missed in the clean up the night before.

“You’d never have shot him, not really.” Gwen’s voice startled him. He’d almost forgotten she was standing right next to him.

“Wouldn’t I?” Honestly in that moment when he’d been pointing his gun at Ianto, who’d stood up to him with the kind of defiance he never would have guessed him capable of, he’d been so angry, so hurt, so absolutely blind-sided, he couldn’t have said what he might have done. There was a darkness inside him, there always had been and sometimes it controlled him, not the other way around. If he had shot Ianto, he knew he would have regretted it for the rest of his very long life.

“Would you have shot me if I’d gone to stand by him?”

He knew there’d been a few moments there where Gwen had wavered and almost taken Ianto’s side. He’d seen it in her eyes, could see it even now. She doubted they’d done the right thing. Of course, she didn’t have the same experiences with Cybermen the rest of them had. She hadn’t seen the ruins of Torchwood Tower.

“But you didn’t,” he replied carefully, temper still dangerously close to the surface.

“If I had, though?” she insisted, as though she was trying to get something out of him, some indefinable thing he knew he couldn’t give her.

“But you didn’t,” he repeated.

“Will he stay?” she asked, changing tacts suddenly. He shrugged, because he honestly had no idea. He didn’t plan on banishing Ianto, but he didn’t know what he would do if Ianto decided after all this that he wanted to leave. “All that deception because he couldn’t bear to live without her.”

Jack clenched his jaw but didn’t reply. Not that Gwen seemed to need one.

“So have you ever loved anyone that much?”

He turned to look at her as she stared at him, scrutiny in her gaze. He returned his attention to Ianto, heart beating hard against the inside of his chest as he heard Ianto asking him the same thing all over again. _Can you understand that, Jack? Haven't you ever loved anyone?_

“When she had hold of you, I thought— Just for a moment, I thought you could die after all.”

“Want to know a secret?” He turned fully toward her. “So did I. And just for a second there, I felt so alive.”

Gwen’s expression became trouble at this, but he couldn’t explain it to her, couldn’t explain it to anyone, really—the momentary hope that this time, he might not come back. This time he might be free. This time, he might really be taking his last breath.

It hadn’t stuck, of course, and reviving had been a son of a bitch; his muscles still twitching and burning from the inside out at the massive doses of electrical current. And then there’d been Ianto, laying facedown against the edge of the concrete culvert. In that moment, nothing else had mattered. Not Ianto’s betrayal, not the pain or the anger. It had just been Ianto, injured and too close to death, and an inexplicable desperation surging deep within him that he needed to save Ianto no matter what it cost him—in the life force energy he could sometimes pass on and sometimes not—or in whatever the future brought them once the full consequences of Ianto’s action settled on them all.


	19. Chapter 19

Ianto stood next to the coffee machine, debating whether to make a tray of coffees to pass out, unsure the team even wanted to look at him let alone accept morning tea like nothing had happened last night. Tosh and Owen had come in about an hour after Gwen and no one had a said a single word to him to entire time, not even Jack.

It was no less than what he deserved. He’d nearly gotten them all killed.

Except there was a part of his heart still burning at their betrayal of him. That they hadn’t tried to help Lisa. It hadn’t even been discussed. Jack had decided she needed to die and the others had followed him without question. Yes, parts of her cyber programming had clearly been activated by whatever Doctor Tanizaki had done, but Lisa had still been in there somewhere. She’d proven that at the end—even if it had been in the most horrific way possible—when she’d transferred her brain into poor Annie’s body and still retained Lisa’s memories. That night they’d camped on the beach in the freezing cold. He’d never be able to recall the memory again without feeling sick.

So clearly the team didn’t want to talk to him, but he didn’t want to talk to them either. Hands shaking, he made a coffee for himself, debating the merits of escaping to the archives. He’d almost taken himself down there a few times in the last two hours, when the oppressive atmosphere of the hub started getting to him, when he couldn’t stop wondering why Jack hadn’t kicked him out yet, why he hadn’t been told what form his punishment was going to take. But each time he’d started walking toward the door leading down into the lower levels, he’d gotten the distinct sense that Jack was watching him closely. Anytime he’d searched out Jack, however, the man had seemingly been ignoring him. So he hadn’t taken the easy escape because he was also worried Jack trusted him that little he’d simply drag him right back up into the hub again, and Ianto didn’t want to endure that particular humiliation in front of the team.

He was so lost in thought, he wasn’t concentrating on the coffee machine properly. The combinations of the hot water spout and his unsteady hands proved to have disastrous results. He swore as he burned himself and fumbled the cup. It tumbled to the floor and smashed at his feet.

The hub had already been quiet, but at this, the silence fell like a wet woollen blanket and though he had his back to the workstations, he just knew they were all looking up at him.

“Ianto?” Jack called his name as his footsteps sounded on the stairs. Ianto pressed a damp towel into his aching hand and then dropped down to pick up the broken shards of crockery. Jack’s boots appeared in his field of vision before he crouched down to help him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, the word coming out far sharper than he meant, or than Jack probably deserved. But there was a lump of hard anger sitting in his chest and he could feel it expanding, looking for any means of escape.

“What happened to your hand? You didn’t cut yourself, did you?” Jack started to reach for him, but he shoved to his feet, abandoning the mess he’d made.

“It’s fine, Jack. Just leave it!”

Jack stood more slowly, expression tensing, a hint of anger creeping into his gaze. “Conference room. Now.”

The captain made a point of stepping back and waiting for Ianto to precede him. This was it, then. The other shoe was finally going to drop. Had Jack just been waiting for him to break or snap before pounding the final nail in the coffin? A fitting analogy, given the circumstances. He pulled the towel from his hand and slapped it down next to the coffee machine before stalking along the gantry, around to the conference room. He forced himself not to look down, he could feel the attention of the rest of the team practically boring into him.

Inside the conference room, he spied a whole lot of forms and reports haphazardly splayed across the surface, most of the bearing his name.

“Sit,” Jack ordered as he yanked the door closed behind himself.

“If it’s all the same, sir, I’d rather not,” he replied with a hint of defiance in his voice, shoving his hands in his pockets so Jack couldn’t see them shaking.

Jack crossed his arms, shoulders bunching, stance becoming defensive. “You’ve had a few hours to think about things. What do you want to do about your situation?”

Is that what he was meant to have been doing? Jack had never said anything. Hadn’t told him he was meant to be considering his future. A sharp wave of panic swelled within him. Did Jack expect him to quit, ask to leave, force his hand so the end of his days at Torchwood were that much more convenient to them all?

“I— I don’t know. I don’t have anything else.” The confession dragged out of him reluctantly. Jack had seen him at his weakest. Seen him at his most vulnerable. Held him after Lisa was gone, when he’d sobbed as the final reality of it had fully sunk in. Let him sleep in his bed and told him he was forgiven. That was the man Ianto had glimpsed occasionally over the months since he’d started working at Torchwood Three. Just Jack. The man who had tempted and intrigued him, made him get that warm flutter in his stomach no matter how he’d denied and ignored it. That man was nowhere in sight now. Torchwood’s fearless leader—the captain—stared at him from across the room, face impassive and eyes cold.

He swallowed, the anger-bolstered bravado quickly slipping away in face of the reality he may no longer have a place at Torchwood.

“So you don’t want to leave?” Jack clarified. If there was any hint of relief in his expression, Ianto told himself he was imagining it.

“No, sir. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, and I’ll have to earn back everyone’s trust, but I don’t want to— I can’t do anything else.”

Jack sighed, posture dropping a little as he glanced down at the conference table. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Ianto. The others will come around eventually.”

“And you?” he asked quickly, heart pounding.

Jack didn’t answer, just stared steadily at him, no hint of thought on his features.

“I didn’t imagine it earlier, did I?” he pressed. “You said you would forgive me.”

“I can forgive you,” Jack said slowly. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

He felt his heart freefall—but what had he honestly expected? He looked down at the table with the papers spread across it, blinking back the burn in his eyes.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, emotion making his voice hoarse. Neither of them acknowledged it, however, as Jack stepped forward and slid the papers into order.

“My report on the incident as head of Torchwood Three. Your confession that you knowingly harboured a cyberman and willingly operated cyber technology. The official infractions that will be put on your permanent record and your agreement to submit to the disciplinary actions I’ve outlined.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat. Oh God, he was going to go down in history as the Torchwood employee who’d nearly caused the end of the world for a second time at the hands of cybermen. Like he hadn’t been smart enough to learn his lesson at Canary Wharf. He’d become an example. A warning. Future agents would look back on these pages and wonder what kind of idiot he’d been.

“Ianto.” Jack’s hand landed on his shoulder and he blinked, feeling hot moisture tracking down his face as he realised he was gasping for breath and practically on the verge of hyperventilating. “When we’re done here, I’m sealing these in the secure archives. No one will ever see them but me.”

What about when Jack was no longer the head of Torchwood Three? What then? But he didn’t say anything. Instead he reached over and picked up the pen, then carefully inscribed his name in all the appropriate places. Jack didn’t say anything the whole time, and when he was done, the captain shuffled all the pages together and then shut them into a slim folder with EYES ONLY printed in large letters on the front under the Torchwood T symbol.

“Did you read any of it?” Jack asked in a voice that suggested he already knew the answer.

Ianto cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t fail him. “I trust it’s all in order.”

 _Trust_. It felt like the wrong word to use considering what he’d done to the trust Jack had given him right from the first day he’d stepped into the hub.

“Then I’ll bullet point the pertinent facts for you.” Jack shifted to perch on the edge of the table. “You’re suspended from active duty for an indefinite amount of time. I’ll decide when it’s time for you to resume full responsibilities depending on your frame of mind and the team’s feelings, as well as my own discretion on the matter. For now, you’re going to take a few days to grieve. You lost someone you loved very deeply. That’s no small thing. Plus I get the feeling you never really switched off since Canary Wharf. You need to decompress, Ianto, before you explode. Get your head clear and come back Monday morning. You’ll be required for general support duties that don’t directly relate to any cases. You can clean, tend the tourist office, make coffee. But you will not go down to the archives without supervision. You will not go anywhere in the hub not covered by CCTV cameras. You will not ask any of the team about any ongoing cases until I decide you’re ready. You will keep regular office hours—no early mornings or late nights. Is that clear?”

He nodded mutely, wishing Jack had simply banished him from the hub altogether. This was much worse. Here but not part of the team. Here because Jack wanted to keep an eye on him and nothing else. Here so they could all be reminded everyday of what he’d done to them as he did nothing but clean and stay in Jack’s visual field at all times and pretend like it wasn’t slowly killing him inside because with Lisa gone, he had nothing else. _He had nothing else_.

God, he was pathetic.

“Good,” Jack replied, apparently satisfied with his silent agreement. “Head home, Ianto. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

He stiffly turned on his heel and left the conference room, once again avoiding everyone’s gazes as he hurried down the stairs and then passed the workstation, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of the utter emptiness waiting for him back at his flat.

No one said anything and the cog wheel door rolling back sounded almost abnormally loud as he went through it. When he stepped onto the elevator, he gulped a breath, but held back the tears by sheer force of will, knowing Jack would still be watching via the CCTV cameras. He’d cried enough in front of Jack to last a lifetime already.

Up in the tourist office, he blindly gathered his keys and jacket, remembering when he’d carefully hung them up the day before, excited, but almost sick with nervous anticipation, thinking he was finally going to save Lisa once Doctor Tanizaki had helped them.

The drive back to his flat went by in a blur, and when he stepped inside and glanced at the clock on the wall, he was surprised to find it wasn’t even lunch time. But he felt exhausted, like he could sleep ten hours, like maybe his brain just didn’t want to deal with anything else and it’s answer for that was to put him to sleep, just like Jack had with the sedative in the early hours of the morning. So he laid down on the couch, not even bothering to take his shoes off and closed his eyes, hoping that if he was going to sleep, it would come quickly.

But he shouldn’t have been so eager to slumber. Because the dreams started. First, just Lisa, and the arse he’d made of himself the first time he’d told her he’d loved her. _Because, thing is, I think I love you. Is that okay? Is it okay that I think that?_ But then it wasn’t Lisa standing there looking at him with affectionate exasperation any longer. It was Jack, and he got confused. Where had Lisa gone? Then Myfanwy was swooping down and Lisa was screaming. Such horrible screams. Jack returned, this time holding his gun. Telling Ianto she was dead even as he shot bullet after bullet into her already lifeless body. Blood everywhere. God, there was so much blood.

He tore free of the dream with a gasp, panting, sweating and shivering. The room had become dark, street lamps glowing softly through the open curtains. He got to his feet, blindly walking into the kitchen, automatically starting to make himself a cup of tea like so many of the nights after he’d first moved into this flat and hadn’t been able to sleep because he’d been upset over Lisa. But when he opened the fridge, he found he had no milk, and the minor inconvenience almost sent him into a panic. In that moment, he was glad he’d fallen asleep on the couch fully dressed as he snatched up his jacket and keys to hurry outside into the crisp night air. He’d just pop down to the corner store and get some milk. Then he could have a cup of tea and maybe things would start making sense again. Bright lights hurt his eyes as he reached the row of shops and he automatically stepped through the doors on his left. Noise washed over him, but he didn’t pay any attention, not even aware of where he was walking or what he was doing until he stopped at the bar and the woman behind it—standing underneath a sign pronouncing the premises to be The Ferret—asked him what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” he blurted out. “I don’t know because I just woke up and I needed milk but I didn’t have any. I didn’t have milk. I’ve always got milk because I’m really, really good with shopping lists and things, and I needed milk and— Oh, God, this isn’t the shop.”

And he was rambling. His mind was in a thousand tiny fractures, each one more lost than the last, and he was rambling in a pub he didn’t remember walking into.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting on a stool with a large whiskey in front of him. He downed it in one long swallow and things finally started making sense in his head again. With hardly a thought at her gentle prompting, he started telling Mandy the barmaid about Lisa—minus the classified Torchwood content, of course. But it just came pouring out, probably aided by the whiskey lubrication she provided. Hours later—closing time, he walked a little unsteadily back to his flat. Still without the milk, but maybe not so weighted down any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've deviated a little from the canon that Ianto had four weeks suspension after the night with Lisa. In the audio, Broken, the four week suspension is never mentioned and the way it plays out, (to my mind) it seems more like a few days before Ianto is back at the hub again. There's even a line where Jack tries to talk to him and says "I know it's been a few days since everything." I suppose it could be taken to mean its been a few days since he got back from suspension, but I just felt like Jack was talking about the night with Lisa and it gave me the idea of Ianto being given an in-house suspension with restricted duties so that's the direction I decided to take the story in. This is what I meant when I talked in the notes at the beginning of the story that I somewhat think Big Finish have over-written the old canon in favor of new canon, which I quite like. And I guess it depends on what you view as canon. The four week suspension was certainly never mentioned in the TV show, it was put on the Captain's Blog that was run on the BBC/Torchwood website at the time and then later compiled and mentioned in the Torchwood Archives book and obviously fans have run with it ever since (there are some really great fics out there about Jack and Ianto in those 4 weeks) But anyway, the possibility of new canon means new stories, and once again, I'm eternally grateful that Big Finish have taken on Torchwood and we'll be getting new content at least until the end of 2019 :)


	20. Chapter 20

Jack balanced the tray of coffees in one hand and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door with the other. It was early by most people’s standards, but Ianto Jones wasn’t most people, and Jack had made a calculated guess that he’d be awake.

However, he didn’t come to the door right away, leaving Jack straining to hear the sounds of footsteps and debating whether to knock for a second time or call Ianto’s mobile. Could he have gone out somewhere? But where and why? He had family, living out in the estates—not that Ianto had ever mentioned them, Jack had seen the notation in his personnel file under next of kin to be contacted if anything ever happened to him. Maybe he’d gone to see them? Except somehow that didn’t sit right, and Jack doubted Ianto would do that, especially if he was feeling so terrible.

Finally, he knocked a second time, harder and louder, and after a few seconds, he heard the nearing sound of footsteps. The door swung open to reveal Ianto blinking blearily at him, shoving at his messy hair. He _had_ been asleep. No, not just asleep. Possibly passed out if the blood shot eyes, dark stubble on his jaw and hint of alcohol-fumes were any indication. He was also still wearing the same suit he’d left the hub in yesterday.

“Sir?” Ianto pulled the door wider, sounding confused.

“I said I’d check in on you today, remember?” He held up the tray and brown paper bag he was holding. “I brought breakfast.”

Ianto stepped back to allow him entrance as he tugged his skewed tie free of his collar and carefully folded it in his hand. “Do you mind— Maybe I should shower first.”

Jack gave a casual shrug. “Up to you, but your coffee and the bacon butty I got for you might be cold by then.”

“Oh god, please, I need that bacon right now.” Ianto held out his hand and Jack had to supress a smile. Nothing like something hot and greasy for a hangover.

Jack dived a hand into the brown paper bag and pulled one out, handing it over to Ianto as they walked into the kitchen. Jack tried not to make it too obvious he was checking everything out as he passed through Ianto’s living spaces. He’d never been in Ianto’s apartment before and was more than a little curious.

There were signs of Lisa here and there—framed pictures and things that were probably hers, like Ianto had set the place up fully expecting Lisa to move back in with him any day. Jack’s chest pinched uncomfortably as he recalled Ianto crying when he said he loved her, the utter desolation in his blue eyes when he’d said he had nothing else to lose. Jack turned his attention to surveying the kitchen, looking for signs of whatever Ianto had indulged in the night before as the younger man sat down at the small, round kitchen table. There was nothing quite so obvious as an empty bottle of vodka to be seen, however.

“So,” he said as he sat opposite Ianto and took his own bacon butty out of the paper bag before checking the coffees and making sure they each got the right one. “How are you doing this morning?”

Ianto’s brow dipped in an exasperated frown as he took a sip from the coffee. “I would have thought it fairly obvious.”

Jack shrugged. “You’re not the first person to drown their sorrows and you definitely won’t be the last. Just don’t make it a habit, yeah?”

Some fleeting expression Jack couldn’t decipher flitted over Ianto’s face as he nodded and pointedly turned his attention to finishing his breakfast. The air between them grew awkward and just a little tense, as if they both had things to say, but did know if the other wanted to hear it. When he was done, Ianto fussed over cleaning up what little mess was in the kitchen—an aborted cup of tea mostly—and then muttered something about the shower before leaving the room without saying anything else.

Jack slowly balled up the rubbish, debating whether to stay and keep Ianto company for a while, or do the cowardly thing and duck out while he was otherwise occupied. In the end, his concern for Ianto’s state of mind won out so he stayed—at least to check he really was okay to be left alone.

Ianto seemed fine, but Jack now knew he was an expert at hiding his real feelings and his true self. He wasn’t ever going to let that polite smile or stoic expression fool him ever again.

Around fifteen minutes later, Ianto emerged in a pair of jeans and soft cotton T-shirt, his feet incongruously bare, pulling Jack up short. He’d never seen Ianto in anything other than a perfectly presented suit, apart from the first two times they’d met when Ianto had worn jeans and a jacket. During those encounters, he hadn’t really stopped to appreciate the full effect of Ianto Jones in jeans—well, maybe he had for a split second when Ianto had been grappling with the weevil that first night. And he really shouldn’t have been appreciating it now. He wasn’t, he amended. It was just, in the casual attire, Ianto looked his age—all twenty-four years of him—which was so damn young to have been through everything he had endured.

As Ianto returned to the main room, he seemed resigned to the fact Jack was still sitting exactly where he’d left him at the kitchen table.

“Thank you for bringing me breakfast and checking in,” Ianto said almost dutifully, the _now please leave_ unsaid but clearly hanging between them.

“Do you have plans for the day?” he asked, deciding to go with ignorance of the fact Ianto was too polite to kick him out of his flat. “It’s good to keep busy.”

“Is it, sir?” Ianto returned with a hint of acid to his voice. “Was there a section of the Torchwood operations manual entitled _what to do when your girlfriend gets converted into a cyberman, then your boss kills her_ that I failed to read?”

Jack took a slow breath to keep a rein on his own temper that wanted to flare in face of Ianto lashing out. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I think you did enough when you pulled the trigger, don’t you, _sir_?”

This time when Ianto said _sir_ there was a derisive sneer to the word that stabbed right through the middle of Jack’s chest, as effectively as a knife. He could see Ianto struggling to hold on to his emotions, whether anger or sorrow, Jack couldn’t tell.

“You can say whatever you want, but you won’t get rid of me that easy.” He crossed his arms, wondering how far he could push Ianto before the younger man did order him to leave.

“Fine, have it your way,” Ianto muttered angrily, before stomping from the kitchen and going into the entry nook. There, he swiped a few knick-knacks off the hall table. Jack watched him silently as he gathered up a few other things, grouping them together on a nearby shelf.

“What are you doing?” he finally had to ask, getting a clue as Ianto added one of the framed pictures of him and Lisa to the growing pile.

“Lisa’s things need to be packed up.”

Sympathy chased away the last of his anger as he got to his feet. This was something Ianto shouldn’t have to do alone.

“I’ll help. I’ve got some boxes in the SUV.”

Ianto paused with his back to him, but Jack saw the way his shoulders bunched.

“Torchwood boxes?”

Jack felt an inexplicable stab of guilt. “She was a Torchwood employee, Ianto. You know the protocols, probably better than I do.”

“Yes, sir,” Ianto answered, bitterness clear in his voice as he returned to collecting Lisa’s belongings. Jack watched him for another few moments, wondering if he would argue against it or ask to keep some personal things aside. But he just kept methodically working around the room, separating Lisa’s belonging from his own.

“I’ll be back with those boxes in a second, then,” he said to Ianto’s back, before walking out of the flat.

At the boot of the SUV, he paused, taking a breath as he stared down at the flat boxes bearing the Torchwood logo stencilled on them. Maybe he should have left Ianto do this alone. Maybe he was intruding on what should have been Ianto’s final private moments with his memories and mementos of Lisa. But every time he thought about leaving, he heard the echo of Ianto’s voice in his head _I’ve got nothing else left to lose_  and an unfathomable, ice cold fear came over him, welling from the very depths of his soul. He didn’t know why, he only knew he couldn’t let anything else happen to Ianto Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty short chapter, so I'm posting 2 chaps today!


	21. Chapter 21

As he watched the roller door run down on the storage locker, shutting away every worldly possession he had left of Lisa, Ianto was fairly sure he hated Jack Harkness.

For a while that morning when Jack had turned up with coffee and the bacon butty like he’d somehow known Ianto was going to be hung over and suffering, he’d thought that Jack had come to see him, shared breakfast with him, given him unsolicited advice—which he admittedly hadn’t taken very well—because he actually cared.

That notion had quickly been disabused the second Jack mentioned the boxes in the SUV. Jack hadn’t come because he cared. Jack had come because he was Torchwood and this was what Torchwood did—scorched the earth to make sure nothing remained in the name of protecting the citizens of the British Empire from nebulous alien threats.

Jack was just as bad as Yvonne Hartman. Maybe he didn’t trot out the old _for Queen and Country_ at a moment’s notice like Yvonne had, but Jack had his own version— _the twenty-first century is when it all changes and we’ve got to be ready—_ one that had tricked him into believing Jack truly cared about people for the fact of their humanity, not their usefulness or impediment to Torchwood.

Ianto turned his back, unable to watch as Jack double-locked the storage unit using his wristband, ensuing no one but the captain would be getting in there again.

“It’s getting late. I can stop somewhere on the way back to yours if you want some kind of takeaway,” Jack commented as he walked toward the SUV like he hadn’t just spent the day alternating between going through Ianto’s personal things and watching him try not to cry.

God, he felt absolutely raw, like someone had flushed his blood for acid and now his insides were stinging with the burn.

“Not hungry,” he replied as he jammed his hands in his pockets and walked right past the SUV.

“Ianto?” The confusion in Jack’s voice was loud and clear, but Ianto kept walking. He had no energy left to deal with Jack bloody Harkness today. “Ianto, wait. Where are you going?”

“I’m walking home. Could do with the fresh air.” Never mind the typical Cardiff drizzle that was beginning to fall and his lack of a jacket against it.

“But that’s all the way across town,” Jack replied, trailing after him. “It’s too far.”

“Then I’ll catch a taxi,” he threw over his shoulder impatiently.

That plan apparently wasn’t good enough for Jack, who closed the distance between them to pull him to a halt, then hurried around to stand in front of him—like an echo of that morning Ianto had brought Jack coffee on the quay, trying to talk him into a job, except now their positions were reversed. The memory made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Ianto, please, just get in the SUV and let me drive you home.”

“No,” he enunciated very clearly and sharply, even though it was through clenched teeth.

He tried to step around Jack, but the older man got into his path again, using his body to block him and tightening his hand on Ianto’s shoulder.

“I promise, I’ll drop you at the door and you can go in alone, but I’m not leaving you here.”

“You don’t get a say. If I want to walk home, then I’m bloody well going to do it!” He threw Jack’s hand off his shoulder, the touch burning him in a way he couldn’t handle right now.

A muscle pulsed in Jack’s jaw, his blue eyes sparking with ire.

“Ianto.” There was an unmistakable note of warning in the captain’s voice that only kicked Ianto’s temper up another notch.

What more did Jack want from him? He was already broken in every way possible. He’d left his dignity running down the drain along with Lisa’s blood in that godforsaken room in the bowels of the hub. His heart was nothing but ashes, his life nothing but shards of shattered glass that cut his soul to ribbons every time he moved. So what exactly did Captain Jack Harkness expect of him?

“Get in the SUV.” The order dropped like a stone between them and Ianto could feel the restraint slipping off the rage he’d been holding onto all day. He shoved Jack in both shoulders, sending him stumbling back a step.

“I’m done, Jack!” His voice was hoarse with anger and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath, but he didn’t care. “I’m done with Lisa. I’m done with Torchwood. And I’m bloody done with you. I need it to stop. So do me a favour and leave me the hell alone!”

He spun and stalked away, not bothering to see how Jack had taken that. Truthfully, he didn’t care, as long as the man didn’t come after him. After a moment, he heard the unmistakable slam of the SUV door and the tires squealing as Jack took off, more of a maniac than usual. Ianto winced, but only for the other poor road-users who’d be unfortunate enough to encounter Jack between here and the hub.

Nevertheless, he breathed a sigh of relief as he found a main road and hailed a taxi. When he got in, however, he gave the address of The Ferret, not his flat. He very definitely needed a drink after the day he’d just endured. Jack’s words momentarily surfaced about not making it a habit, but he ruthlessly and defiantly pushed them down. If he wanted to get drunk every night until Monday, and maybe every other night after Monday, then Jack didn’t get to have an opinion on that. And he knew the captain wouldn’t voice one, either, unless it started impacting his work. After all, Owen stumbled in with hangovers often enough. There’d been more than a few nights Ianto was sure Owen hadn’t even gone home. Maybe the doctor could give him some pointers on how to get himself to work without throwing up and/or keeling over from alcohol-induced headaches. 

The notion gave him a moment of dark amusement as he paid the taxi driver and got out in front of The Ferret. The truth was, he was too finicky to do that to himself. He hated being sick at the best of times, let alone because he’d inflicted it on himself the night before.

Inside the pub, the sounds of subdued chatter and the chiming dings of the fruit-machines in the corner settled over him as he took the same stool at the bar he’d occupied last night. Mandy the barmaid was behind the counter once again, and as she turned to look at him, he felt a light blush warming his cheeks as he wondered if she’d remember him and the state he’d been in the night before.

“Hello, there,” she greeted with a familiar smile that did seem to indicate she remembered well their late-night whiskey induced conversation. “Alright today, luv?”

Mandy started to reach for the whiskey bottle.

“Just a pint will be fine,” he said quickly.

She shifted over and put a glass under the frosted tap at the bar. “You must be doing better if you’re not asking for the top shelf.”

“Debatable,” he mumbled as she set the glass in front of him, a little white foam dribbling down the sides. “I spent the day packing up her things. My girlfriend, Lisa. The one who—”

“That must have been rough,” Mandy replied with a sympathetic frown before he had to say the D word. “Did you do it all? You could have taken some time.”

He gave a sad laugh. “I just wanted it dealt with, you know? Not sitting there reminding me that she’s never coming home. And my job— It’s complicated. It had to be done today.”

Jack had made damn sure of that.

“Well, it’s done now, so that’s something.”

He sent her a shallow smile and sipped his pint as she went to serve someone else. She just seemed to know the right thing to say—or not say. Which was probably why Ianto found himself sitting on that same stool, nursing a pint or two every night for the rest of the week until Sunday night. By that point, Mandy had started make jokes about getting his name engraved on the stool. He couldn’t say it was making things better, but it certainly wasn’t making things worse. At least he was functioning on some level. Still, he asked Mandy for whiskey that Sunday night, knowing he had to be at the hub in the morning—regular office hours, which meant nine a.m., not seven or earlier like he had before—

The whiskey burned in his stomach. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go back, but what choice did he have? Jack had decreed his punishment and he’d signed his name to the documents. He had to go back to work and start making amends for what he’d put the team through. God, could he even make amends? He wouldn’t blame any of them if they never forgave him. But what would he do then? How long could he work with people who hated him?

At ten p.m., he bid Mandy good night and walked the short distance back to his flat. He picked out a suit for the following day—tone on tone, dark colours, which probably said a lot about his frame of mind, but he was more interested in blending into the background shadows of the hub and hoping the others didn’t notice him.

That done, he got ready for bed and then laid in the dark staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Jack. After their spat outside the storage locker, Jack had done exactly what he’d asked and left him alone. He hadn’t even texted. It’d only taken a day and a half before he’d caught himself wishing he hadn’t let his temper get the better of him and flung the words at Jack. He missed him almost at much as he didn’t want to see him.

And that right there was the problem; he was at war with himself over his boss. There was the way he’d felt for Jack before the night with Lisa. The part of him that’d enjoyed the flirting, enjoyed the stolen not-so-innocent touches from both sides. Hell, one day about two weeks ago, Jack had “accidently” dropped something in Ianto’s lap and when he’d picked it up again, his fingers had lingered and stroked in a way that had sent Ianto fleeing to the bathroom and— Well, wanking during work hours wasn’t exactly professional, but considering he worked with Jack Harkness and his 51st century pheromones, who could blame him?

Then there was the part of him that Jack had ruthlessly torn apart the second he’d jammed his gun to the back of Ianto’s head when Lisa had been roaming free and they’d been trying to get back up to the main atrium of the hub. _Resisting the urge to shoot_. In that second, his heart had gone into a freefall and smashed on the concrete at his feet. He’d known then that Jack wasn’t going to help him, wasn’t going to help Lisa, and there was a very good chance he wouldn’t survive the night. Jack might not have killed him, but the damage had been done. He didn’t know how he would ever look at Jack again without seeing the Webley between them, Jack’s expression twisted with rage as he threatened to shoot him if he didn’t shoot Lisa. And the worst part was, it hurt all the more because of the memories from before, when Jack had trusted him and they’d shared—something.

He had no definition for what had been between them before, especially since his own half had been built on lies. He only knew there was no way he could ever get it back. Not only had he lost Lisa that night, but he’d also destroyed something with Jack he hadn’t even realised he desperately needed.


	22. Chapter 22

When nine a.m. Monday morning rolled around, Jack Harkness called himself every kind of coward as he came up with a reason not to be in the hub when Ianto arrived. He’d done what Ianto had asked—or more like demanded—and left him alone since the day after Lisa had died, only five days ago if they were being technical, though it seemed more like a month. He’d spent the past three days trying to work out what to say to his general support officer when he finally saw him again which turned out to be difficult considering the way they’d parted.

Ianto had every right to be angry; he’d been through two separate traumas and was grieving and hurting. And considering Ianto's deliberate betrayal from the first day he’d asked for a job, Jack knew he had every right to his own anger as well. Yet there’d been a period of time not long after Lisa died that night, on the floor of the changerooms where they’d clung to each other and nothing else had mattered. They’d both needed solace and found it in the least likely person after all the animosity that’d passed between them in the hours before.

Jack had purposefully kept it in mind, recalled it whenever he felt the hurt of Ianto’s betrayal rising within him again. However, in the moment outside the storage locker, he’d yet again failed to handle the situation in a constructive way, let his emotions get the better of him and ordered Ianto to get into the SUV instead of listening to him or trying to reason with him.

Over the following days, his anger had cooled and even that sense of hurt and betrayal he’d thought was going to take months, possibly years to get over had started rapidly melting away in face of the fact that he missed Ianto’s calm, quiet, steadying presence around the hub far more than he’d ever thought he would.

And instead of recalling how Ianto had used everything he’d known about Jack and the hub against him to save a cyberman, he’d started recalling all the months before that—the flirting, the late-night coffees, the deliberate, lingering touches, the stolen glances. He re-examined them all and realised that while Ianto might have hidden himself from them, no one was that good an actor. He had to believe that a lot of what had gone on between them was real; not just Ianto using him or distracting him away from the truth in the depths of his own base. Truthfully he was terrified of _not_ believing it, because if Ianto really had played him that deeply, then it created implications Jack didn’t want to deal with.

He’d vacillated between simply moving forward and not mentioning any of it ever again—including their last argument at the storage locker, or apologising to Ianto for pushing him too far. Every time he settled on one over the other, he’d think of something else and then change his mind.

He kept coming back to the fact that even though he wasn’t much for sharing personal details about himself with anyone, some things needed to be talked about, and Ianto should talk about Lisa with someone. He just didn’t know if he should be that person. He wasn’t usually so indecisive and it was starting to get on his nerves. So instead of being there to greet Ianto on his first morning back like he should have done as Ianto’s boss and maybe-friend, he’d left the hub before anyone could come in and found a rooftop to watch the sunrise and get some perspective. Ianto’s first day back was going to be difficult on all of them for many different reasons, and unfortunately, he couldn’t spend all of it brooding on a roof. The decision was taken out of his hands, however, when Tosh called with a rift alert, giving him just the distraction he needed.

He met Gwen and Owen on site—Tosh had stayed back at the hub as she had the past few days while Ianto hadn’t been there to coordinate. Some kind of capsule had come through and opened on impact. Consequently, he and the team spent the rest of the day trying to work out if anything or anyone had been inside and where they might have ended up, meaning he hardly gave Ianto a thought and barely saw the inside of the hub. The only indication Ianto was even around came in the form of when his blue and white stripe mug filled with the perfect coffee he’d been craving for the past few days appeared at his elbow while he was on the phone. By the time he looked up, Ianto was gone.

Another few leads sent him out in the late afternoon, and while he was driving back in the evening, a weevil alert came in. He cursed, because it was the last thing they needed today. He left the SUV out on the Plass since he was going straight out again, and went down to the hub for Gwen. Upon arriving, however, the only person he’d found was Ianto. To say things were awkward between them would have been an understatement. Still, he wasn’t blind and could see Ianto probably hadn’t been sleeping much; he was pale and there were dark smudges under his eyes. The tension he was carrying in his posture—like he expected the world to come crashing down on him at any second, or was in physical pain—was also easy to see, leaving sympathy welling in his chest. He’d asked Ianto how he’d been doing the past few days, but unsurprisingly was given a conciliatory answer and brushed off.

When it became apparent Gwen had gone home, while Tosh and Owen were out investigating something else, Jack made the spur of the moment decision to take Ianto with him to catch the weevil. He wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by the offer. Nonetheless, Ianto had followed him out to the SUV. The whole trip to the outskirts of Cardiff, neither of them said a word, while Jack thought of and discarded a dozen different things to say. By default, he hadn’t needed to decide whether to talk to Ianto all day; the rift had made sure he couldn’t. However, they were now alone, it was the perfect time and the last thing Jack wanted to do was have history repeat and lapse into the easy habit of not bothering to make sure Ianto—or the rest of the team—were going along okay.

Again, the thought returned that Ianto probably needed to talk about Lisa. So he tried to casually broach the subject as they left the SUV and started walking the dark parkland in search of the weevil, but Ianto unequivocally shut him down and asked to focus on the task at hand. In the end, Jack was left wishing once again that he’d tried harder with the stubborn young man.

*******

Jack managed to keep his mouth shut until they got back to the hub and locked the weevil in a cell. As they were leaving the vaults, he could see Ianto flexing his right hand. Served him right if he’d broken a knuckle or two.

“Do I need to call Owen?” he asked, knowing his voice was tight with anger but not sure what the source of it was exactly.

Ianto cast him a surprised look, but it was quickly replaced by indifference. “Why would we need Owen?”

“I don’t know, Ianto, you tell me.” Jack pulled him roughly to a halt as they emerged into the hub and pointedly pulled his hand up to examine it. The knuckles were split and bleeding in a few places and sure to have some colourful bruises in the morning, but it didn’t look like he’d broken anything.

Ianto didn’t even bother trying to hide the damage or pull his hand away, he simply looked resigned, which for some reason pissed Jack off even more.

“Come with me.” He winced internally at the note of command in his voice. He really needed to stop speaking to Ianto that way. Of course, it’d be much easier if he could go even a day without Ianto stirring the anger within him. As they reached Owen’s autopsy bay, he forced some psychological distance on himself, realising it wasn’t so much Ianto’s actions that had his temper on a hair trigger, it was Ianto himself.

The younger man had scared him—first with the absolute ruthless cunning it had taken to bring and hide his half-converted cyber-girlfriend into the hub and conceal it for months. Then a second time, when Lisa had tossed him like a rag doll and he’d strayed closer to death than he’d probably ever realise—if not for Jack giving him some of his excess life energy through that kiss, Ianto wouldn’t have survived the night. And then the third time, when it became apparent that Ianto was choosing Lisa over him—over the team, even though anyone could see she wasn’t Lisa anymore. Something inside him had broken, just a little, within the second of realisation. Something inside him that no one had touched for a very long time, something he hadn’t even realised Ianto had gained access to until that very moment. Since then, in the back of his mind he hadn’t quite been able to quell the fear that Ianto would try something permanent to fix his situation. Leaving him alone for the past three days had been one of the hardest things Jack had ever done. Only the occasional check of the CCTV surrounding Ianto’s flat to see him coming and going at various times had kept the worry from getting out of hand.

Now, Ianto was back and not even a day had gone by before he’d managed to scare Jack yet again. Out on that hillside, in face of the weevil, something almost primal had broken free in Ianto. Jack had needed him to distract the weevil so he could sneak up on it with the sedative spray. Instead Ianto had attacked it, lashing out with raw fury—a darkness Jack had glimpsed inside himself but never thought Ianto might possess. The result had been a subdued and injured weevil—and he dreaded the thought of explaining that to Owen—as well as Ianto’s damaged hands.

Ianto went and sat on the autopsy table without being asked while Jack rummaged around for some gauze and an ice pack. He took a calming breath before turning to face the younger man.

“What was that?” he asked in a quiet voice as he picked up Ianto’s hand—more gently this time. He’d asked out on the hill, but Ianto had simply walked away from him, leaving him to lug the weevil back to the SUV himself.

“What was what?” Ianto returned stubbornly. He knew exactly what Jack was talking about—they were both aware he was simply stalling or trying to avoid the conversation.

“Out there, with the weevil. You were beyond angry, Ianto. You were out of control.”

Ianto shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on his own hand as Jack gently wiped the blood away. “I don’t know. It just hit me out of nowhere. I didn’t think, I just let it out.”

“You’ve every right to be angry at the world.” He paused in his ministrations long enough that Ianto finally looked up at him. “But there are healthier ways of releasing that tension.”

Ianto gave a caustic laugh. “Oh, that’s rich advice coming from Jack Harkness. What do you want me to do, go out and find some random woman to shag it away? It’s what you’d do, isn’t it?”

A wave of aggravation laced with the tiniest bit of hurt went through him, but he ignored it. “That’s not what I meant—”

“You don’t get it, Jack,” Ianto cut in before he could say anything else. “I’ve been numb for days. Hell, maybe I’ve been numb for months. Since Canary Wharf. But tonight, I felt something. It made me realise that maybe I’m not dead inside after all. I _felt_ something. Can you understand that?”

“Not like this,” he snapped, seeing again in his mind the way Ianto had been unrelenting as he’d hit the weevil over and over. That darkness Jack feared in himself—he refused to let it grow inside Ianto. “This is not the answer.”

Surprisingly, Ianto didn’t get angry in return, but he did pull his hand away from Jack and calmly stood, pushing his shoulders straight, the tension gone from his posture. There was a spark of something in his gaze, something that hadn’t been there earlier. Jack had to admit, his entire energy seemed to have changed.

“I’m sorry you can’t understand, but you also can’t take it away from me.” He turned precisely and started heading for the steps.

“Where are you going?” he called after him.

“It’s after seven Jack and I’m still banned from active duty. Office hours, remember?”

Ianto didn’t look back as he jogged up the steps. A few moments later, the cog wheel door sounded. Truthfully, he’d forgotten that Ianto was supposed to still be on his in-house suspension. He supposed if Ianto went out under his supervision, then it wasn’t exactly breaking the rules. Still, he’d have to work out how long a period was reasonable before he could put Ianto back on full duty. Yes, he needed to be punished for breaking about a dozen serious Torchwood protocols, but he clearly also needed a healthy way to channel everything he was dealing with.

Jack sighed as he cleared up what little mess he’d made in Owen’s area. More than anything, he wanted to get back what they’d had before that night with Lisa, even though it was impossible. No, not that. He wanted a better version of that where he was actually a good friend and knew what was going on with Ianto. The problem was, that night with Lisa had happened and now it was like the hood had been ripped from his eyes and he was seeing the real depths of Ianto for the first time. There were parts of him that were so like Jack himself…was it any wonder he’d been drawn to the man? In Ianto, he may have found a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of people.

He had to configure these new facets of Ianto’s personality with what he’d known—more like what he’d assumed—before. He just didn’t know where to start. The only thing he’d realised for certain? He had no idea what the hell he was going to do with Ianto Jones.


	23. Chapter 23

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Ianto started at Jack’s words echoing slightly in the otherwise quiet hub. For a second he was lost for a reply. He honestly hadn’t thought Jack was here, that he’d get away with being in the hub outside of office hours without anyone the wiser. Trust him to sneak in on the one night Jack hadn’t been brooding on a rooftop somewhere and was actually sleeping. Or not, as it apparently seemed.

They had that it common tonight, at least. He’d been to The Ferret earlier in the night and spoken to Mandy again. He’d been typically bitter about the team’s failure to understand what he was going through or the fact they still didn’t know anything about him apart from hiding a half-converted cyber-girlfriend in the basement.

She’d asked had they really not tried to talk to him since Lisa had died, and he’d realised they actually had—albeit uncertainly and in their own ways. She’d then asked if it was really all them, or if _he_ was the problem. He’d gone on to tell her about how Jack had taken him out on a “job” and tried to talk to him before and after the weevil.

Mandy had said that it sounded like Jack was making an effort and gently told him that Ianto wasn’t the easiest person to talk to. It was time for him to make the next move. If anyone else had pointed it all out, he wouldn’t have wanted to listen, would have simply kept denying it, and stubbornly held onto the belief that rest of the team and Jack were the ones at fault. But Mandy’s no-nonsense words of advice sunk into him—along with a couple of cold pints—and he’d gone home to spend the rest of the night tossing in bed and re-examining his situation until three a.m. had rolled around and he’d decided to sneak into the hub. If he was going to be awake, he could at least be doing something constructive.

“Neither should you,” he finally answered automatically, probably giving away the fact that he’d broken his in-house suspension under the assumption Jack wouldn’t be here to catch him. Jack didn’t answer right away, but stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Ianto cursed silently to himself as he turned his attention to the folder of documents he'd just printed out and hurried over to where he’d been working at Tosh’s computer.

For a few moments there was silence and Ianto stared blankly at the screen, mentally preparing himself for Jack’s anger over him breaking some very simple rules of his punishment.

Except instead of a clipped order to go home or a single heated word, a hand landed on his shoulder and slid down a little, the touch beyond comforting and much closer to affectionate, as if they were so familiar with one another Jack had every right to such an intimate caress. He glanced back in shock, even as he leaned slightly into the broad warmth of Jack’s palm. Jack wasn’t looking at him, however, he had his gaze trained on Tosh’s computer.

“What’ve you got?” Jack asked in a voice that almost sounded hesitant.

He took a breath, not trusting his voice because of the sudden, intense warmth rushing through him. It was taking every ounce of self-control not to press all the way back into Jack’s touch.

“Funny sort of weather patterns.” Gaining more control over himself, he looked back at Jack to find they’d somehow gotten closer anyway. Jack’s gaze roamed over the screen, expression tensing even more than it had been when Ianto had first looked up and seen him.

“Is it something we need to worry about? I could call Tosh in.” A hint of unease swept through him at the carefully controlled set to Jack’s features, one he hadn’t really seen before.

“No, nothing we need to wake Tosh over. We just might want to keep an eye on it for the next couple of days.” Jack finally moved back from him and Ianto almost felt bereft at the loss of his nearness. Jack paced away, lost in thought, absently touching a few things here and there.

“Well, since you’re awake, I’ll put the coffee on, shall I?” He’d been planning to grovel an apology over breaking the rules and then head home until he was meant to be in at nine, but Jack’s mood was so unlike him, Ianto was suddenly hesitant in leaving him alone.

“Are there any Hobnobs in the cupboard?” Jack asked with a sudden smile that was a little more forced than usual when he turned.

“I can’t recommend eating chocolate biscuits at four in the morning, but yes, I restocked them yesterday and hid a packet from Owen.”

“Good man. I’ll get dressed properly and meet you in my office.” Jack turned and hurried back toward the hatch to his bunker, leaving Ianto staring after him, unsure of what had just happened.

Jack hadn’t said a word about him being here when he shouldn’t be and that caress on his shoulder had been—he swallowed at the warmth in places he really didn’t need to be getting warm right now. Though Jack hadn’t said it in so many words, Ianto had the extremely strong sense that Jack didn’t want to be alone right now. There probably wasn’t any use reading into the fact it was his company Jack wanted, especially since there weren’t any other options, but with Mandy’s words ringing in his mind and his new resolve to try harder with Jack, he suddenly felt better about things between them than he had in even the weeks before the night Lisa had—

No, he wasn’t going to think about that. It had happened. And so maybe a part of him still blamed Jack. But they were moving past it. He was moving past it. If he told himself enough times that Jack had done what he’d had to, then maybe soon he’d start to believe it.

*******

Ianto was keeping an eye on the CCTV while he was working down in the archives, waiting for the team to return. There were things that needed doing up in the hub, but quite honestly, he’d preferred his own company for most of the day. He wasn’t hiding—not really. He was just…processing. Re-examining things and wondering where he’d gone wrong between Mandy’s advice that he make the next move and Jack utterly missing the fact he was standing right in front of him.

The phone had rung early that morning and he’d answered it as always, only to find an older sounding lady asking for Jack. He’d been curious, because not many people had the direct phone number into the heart of the hub, but apparently this woman was important enough to warrant such a privilege. After Jack had hung up the phone, Ianto had enquired if he was going out and before he could ask to go along, Jack had turned around and hollered for Gwen, leaving him standing there feeling invisible all over again.

 _Just like before_.

He tried not to let the thought gain purchase in his mind, but it was there and it wouldn’t go away. He knew Jack hadn’t meant it. He had a million excuses on Jack’s behalf; he was still on restricted duties, he technically wasn’t trained as a field agent—as far as they knew, anyway.

Truthfully, his experience with Yvonne at Torchwood One had put him in the field often enough. Being Yvonne’s PA had not featured him sitting behind a desk all that often. Yvonne had been hands-on and often put herself in the thick of it. No matter Jack’s feeling toward the woman, they had more in common than Jack realised—they never expected more of their people than they were willing to do themselves. One day, he was going to have to come clean about his real role at Torchwood One, since Jack still thought he’d simply been a junior researcher. The thought of having _that_ conversation left him feeling slightly queasy, however, so he pushed it aside for later consideration.

For now, telling himself not to waver at the first wall he faced was taking up all of his mental acuity. He could guess Mandy would tell him not to give up so easily, no matter the slight sting of humiliation Jack didn’t even realise he’d inflicted. If this was what he really wanted—to be part of the team, to do something important, to make up for what happened with Lisa, for Jack to notice him—then he had to put in the same effort as before when he’d worked so hard to become invisible because he’d been terrified of anyone finding out his secrets. He’d basically trained them to not notice him, even when he was standing right in front of them. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own that it’d worked so effectively.

He knew Jack cared about him—in so far as any member of the team—or the captain wouldn’t have had a second thought about following Torchwood protocols. Would have retconned or killed him. And Jack _had_ tried to talk to him. Jack had respected his wishes to be left alone. Jack had been the one to suggest he go on the weevil hunt…even though he probably regretted it later considering the way it’d turned out. Mandy was right, Jack was trying in his own way, but Ianto had blown off Jack’s concern about his anger flooding out when he’d subdued the weevil. Was it any wonder Jack had gone to find Gwen this morning? Jack probably did trust what he’d do if he took him out in the field again. So somehow, he had to figure out how to meet Jack halfway. Show him that he was trying in his own way as well.

Movement on the CCTV caught his attention and he glanced over at the screen to see the SUV had returned. He headed up to the hub, arriving at the same time the team did. He pulled up short, however, at seeing the expressions on their face. He almost asked if someone had died or been seriously injured, his heart dropping into his stomach. But it was obvious they were all present and accounted for. If something had happened, it hadn’t been to one of the team members directly.

Gwen stalked over to her desk and snatched up something before marching straight back out the cog wheel door again, angrily brushing by Jack without looking at him. Owen disappeared down into his medical area and the sudden crash of glass and metal immediately followed—something thrown by the sound of it—while Tosh went to hide behind her workstation, blinking rapidly as though trying not to cry. Jack avoided looking at all of them—even him—and stormed into his office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. Whatever had happened, he got the feeling that Jack was bearing the brunt of the blame.

Ianto went up to the coffee machine and only took out two mugs for the time being. He needed to find out what had happened before deciding how to approach Jack…or even if he _should_ approach Jack. It might end up being better to let him go brood on a rooftop somewhere before broaching the subject.

Once the coffee was made, he went down to the autopsy bay first, but one glance at Owen’s face convinced him that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He left the coffee on the top step where it would be directly in the doctor’s line of sight when he turned around. Hurrying away before Owen saw him and he inadvertently copped the tail end of Owen’s temper, he took Tosh’s coffee over to her workstation, dragging a chair with him the last few steps.

She sent him a tremulous smile as she reached out and took the mug from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, clasping his fingers loosely between his knees, wondering if he should try Jack’s tactic of holding her hand or touching her arm.

“I am, for the most part. The little girl we went to save, however…” She turned to stare blindly at the nearest computer screen.

 _Oh no_. It was hard enough when they failed to save people, but a kid? That always burned so much deeper and more painfully.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

Tosh began from when they’d arrived at the school, though he’d heard all of that on the comms. It was when they’d gotten to Jasmine’s house that the feed had dropped out and he hadn’t been able to get it back. He’d tried not to worry too much, figuring the team had things in hand and if they’d needed him, they would have let him know. Tosh didn’t look at him once the entire time, as she told him about Jasmine’s step-dad being killed and then how Jack had let the little girl go without a fight. Lost to the fairies. How devastated the mother had been, losing her husband and only child in one terrible afternoon. Owen had given her extra sedatives on top of the retcon and sent her to hospital. Now Tosh had to come up with a cover story to explain away the pair being killed. He could hear the distress and perplexed anger in her tone as she spoke about Jack’s actions.

By the time she was done, he coffee cup was empty, her shoulders slumped and eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Why don’t you go home?” he suggested gently. “I’ll take care of the cover story and all the particulars.”

He wasn’t meant to; he was still on restricted duties. But he figured these were extenuating circumstances and Jack never needed to know.

A glimmer or relief entered her gaze, but it was edged in guilt. “Ianto, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Part of my job, remember?” He sent her a reassuring smile and then stood to gather her coat. “Go home, take a bath, have a glass of wine. Soak the day away. None of it was your fault. Sometimes we lose no matter how hard we fight.”

At his words, her expression softened. “Oh, Ianto. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, Tosh. Really.”

“No, it’s not,” she immediately replied. A new kind of understanding seemed to pass between them as they looked at each other for a moment.

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But that’s Torchwood for you.”

She stepped forward and hugged him, surprising them both. He returned the embrace briefly, not sure how he felt about it, but appreciating the gesture for what it was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her as he pulled back. “Not too early, mind.”

“You’re right.” She took her coat from him and gathered up her bag. “I might just have a lie in.”

He smiled as she waved and headed for the cog wheel door, her steps a little lighter. The sound drew a scowling Owen up from the autopsy bay.

“Where is everyone?”

“Gone home,” he answered, busying himself with picking up Tosh’s empty mug and straightening a few things on her desk.

“Well that’s just fucking great, that is.” Owen roughly shrugged out of his white medical coat and tossed it carelessly over the railing, then stalked over to snatch up his jacket. “I’m going to get shit-faced. Tell Jack not to call me, even if the rift is about to swallow the whole sodding city. Might be an improvement, honestly.”

Owen didn’t wait for a reply, hurrying out through the cog wheel door and leaving him standing in the now-empty hub. Or, not quite empty. Jack had very decidedly shut himself in his office. He almost left as well, imagining the temper Jack would have worked himself into by now, especially in view of the team turning on him. But it was the memory of his own recent betrayal, at how hurt Jack had been beneath the fury, that made him walk up to the coffee machine and take down Jack’s blue and white mug.

For all his charm and flirting, his smiles and charisma, his anger and intensity, his determination and willpower, at the heart of it all, Ianto had seen how vulnerable Jack really was. The realisation had started that night Lisa had been killed, when they’d sat on the floor of the changerooms and Jack had silently cried into his hair. Since then, he’d caught glimpses of it, but hadn’t really realised what he was seeing. Not until just now, in face of the team’s anger and Tosh’s explanation of what had happened.

It hit him that he saw Jack in a completely different light to the rest of them. It meant whatever had or hadn’t happened, he knew that today, Jack had done what he’d had to, he’d protected the world, he’d sacrificed part of himself to safeguard everyone else—because after this, there was no way any of the others would ever look at Jack quite the same way again.

His own view of Jack had changed the night all his secrets had come out, but so had his view of himself. All of it accumulated to a surety within him that he trusted Jack in a way he’d never trusted anyone else, despite what Jack had done to Lisa.

He suspected that maybe Jack would want to be alone, had probably assumed Ianto would be similarly disgusted and angered once the others told him. But when it came to the two of them, nothing was so black and white any longer.

When the coffee was done, he didn’t bother with the pretence of biscuits or anything else, simply took the mug and slipped quietly into Jack’s office. He wasn’t at his desk, but the hatch in the floor stood open.

“Sir?” he called out, walking over to the edge. There was no answer, and he debated whether Jack was simply ignoring him, or honestly hadn’t heard. It would be so much easier to leave the coffee and disappear. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was getting himself into here, but Jack hadn’t been himself since the case began, and he was reminded of that uneasy feeling he’d gotten in the early hours of the morning the day before when the strange weather patterns had begun and he’d suspected Jack hadn’t wanted to be alone.

With a sigh, he set the coffee on the edge of the hatch and then climbed halfway down, pausing to grab the mug and then carefully descending the last few rungs one-handed. When he reached the bottom and turned, he heard the water running from the shower in the ensuit bathroom. There was a trail of clothes starting with Jack’s shirt dropped carelessly at the bottom of the ladder, boots, socks, braces, undershirt and trousers leading to the door, which was stood open a crack, steam lazily curling out from the gap and dissipating in the air around him.

Stepping over Jack’s boots, he walked across to put the coffee mug down on the old wooden crate Jack used as a nightstand, then turned and gathered up the clothes. A couple of other things had been tossed in the basket Ianto had left for dirty garments, so he spent a few moments sorting through them, before righting some things in the cupboard that’d gotten out of order in Jack’s usual careless scramble for clothes. The man had a startling inability to put anything back where he’d taken it from.

Just as the cupboard was looking satisfactorily in order again, the bathroom door swung wide and Jack stepped out, naked apart from the towel he was roughly scrubbing over his head. Ianto determinedly kept his eyes on Jack’s face as he finally noticed him and paused, all kinds of expression rushing over his features before he schooled them into indifference.

“Since you’re standing there, mind handing me some clean clothes?”

Ianto turned, swallowing the sudden dryness in his throat, trying not to watch out of the corner of his eye as Jack ran the towel over his torso, not attempting to hide his nudity in the least. They all knew Jack had no qualms about his body—all of them had inadvertently seen him naked at one point or another after the many, many incidents where one or all of them had ended up covered in some kind of alien substance, or mud, or blood, or any other countless thing that required stripping on return to the hub. But this—this was far more intimate. He was standing in what amounted to Jack’s bedroom, picking out clothes for him. He forced himself not to think of it as anything but impersonal; the same way Jack had helped him shower off Lisa’s blood because he’d been in too much shock to do it himself.

“Here you are, sir.” He held the clothes out and then busied himself straightening a few last things in the cupboard as Jack dressed.

“The others told you what happened?” There was an edge to the question, like it was a test somehow. The tone carefully casual, but Ianto could hear the underlying tension.

“They did,” he replied just as casually, moving over to perch on the edge of the bed since there was no where else to sit in the bunker, reminding him of when Jack had ordered him down here and knocked him out with a sedative because he hadn’t been ready to deal with him.

“They all went home,” he continued when Jack didn’t answer. The press of his lips and the taut expression spoke volumes, however.

“You didn’t leave with them.” It was a statement, but Ianto heard the question behind it.

“Nope, work to do.”

Jack gave a grim laugh as he sat down next to him. “Of course there is.”

Silence fell between them and Ianto found himself holding his breath. Jack picked up the coffee, looked at it for a moment, before putting it down again.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Jack finally said in a voice so low, Ianto almost missed it.

“I know,” he replied simply, shifting around to look at Jack, who had his head down, looking worn and lost like he had when he’d returned after finding Estelle dead.

“They would have killed so many more if I’d kept her from them. They have power no one can comprehend. Could have laid waste to the entire world in a single breath. What choice did I have against _that?_ ”

“Sir, I know,” he repeated more firmly, reaching out to clasp Jack’s hand tightly in his.

At last, Jack looked up at him, as though Ianto’s words had finally sunk in.

“You did what you had to,” he told Jack, even though it sounded hollow to his own ears.

“Ianto—” Jack’s eyes shimmered as he inhaled sharply, not finding whatever words he’d intended to speak.  

“I understand why,” he said as Jack tightened his hold on his hand, almost painfully. “I’ll always understand, Jack, even if the others don’t.”

Jack’s ensuing breath was ragged and somehow in the next instance, he was in Ianto’s arms, face pressed into his neck. He wasn’t sure if he’d pulled Jack in or the other man had collapsed against him. Either way, Jack’s silent tears were scalding his skin and soaking into the collar of his shirt. But he didn’t care, he welcomed the sensation as he held Jack together the same way Jack had held him together when he’d needed it. This he could understand. This pain that welled so deep it was impossible to see where the pain ended and he started, leaving him with the fear that he had become the pain and nothing else… This, he understood they had in common, even though Jack had so successfully hidden it from the rest of the world beneath his charm and ready smiles. Having it inside himself, Ianto recognised it for exactly what it was in Jack. Which was what made his words the utter truth; he would always understand Jack in a way that maybe no one else did. And if that made him feel connected to the man, then he wasn’t going to deny it.

They had so many connections now; all gossamer thin on their own, yet together they were slowly but surely creating a tether too strong to be broken easily. He wondered what would become of the two of them when the threads became a whole strand, a cord, a rope, a chain. Wherever they ended up, he knew it was too late to be having second thoughts. He’d made his choice when he hadn’t taken Jack’s offer to leave. For better or worse, he was irrevocably bound to Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting two chapters today because I've been AWOL (on a deadline getting a book finished) this week and missed my last update :)


	24. Chapter 24

Jack stood in his office, arms folded over his chest, watching the team working. It was late in the afternoon, and it had been a somewhat eventful day. The rift had kept them busy with several minor spikes to follow up, and some old foes—that looked creepily like puppets—had needed taking care of at the Millennium Centre. He’d been all set to take Owen or Gwen, but then Ianto had been standing there with a gun, ready to go. He’d known it was going to be a straightforward case and he was going to get the rare opportunity to get out the flame-thrower, so he’d happily let Ianto go with him.

Ianto had held his own well enough against the creepy little things, but it was after they’d gotten back to the hub that Ianto had really surprised him. Ianto had spoken to him. Held an actual conversation with substance and context and true feelings. He’d learned more about Ianto in that five minutes than he had in all the months since Ianto had joined Torchwood Three.

“So you mean—” he’d said to Ianto after the younger man had finished explaining he felt like he had nothing in his life. “You just want to be more involved? I mean with Torchwood.”

“Sir—” Ianto had replied. “Jack. There really is more to me than just making coffee.”

Of course he knew there was more to Ianto than just making coffee. The question was, how did Ianto not realise that about himself?

He hadn’t been able to help the low, affection laugh.

“Oh Ianto, you idiot. You should have just said,” he’d replied, which had left Ianto blushing. The others had returned then, and Ianto had hurried off to make them coffee, colour high in his cheeks, but seeming more energised than he had been in weeks.

For some reason, all day after that, Jack had found his gaze wandering back to Ianto over and over. He was definitely in a more buoyant mood. Clearly getting out of the hub and doing something had been good for him.

Jack paced back to his desk and glanced at the missing person’s cases sitting on his desk. He’d been planning on springing this on the team before they went home today, but now that he thought about it, he realised in his mind _the team_ hadn’t included Ianto. He’d only been thinking about Tosh, Owen and Gwen. Maybe this was exactly what Ianto needed. What they all needed. Some good old fashioned fresh air. A change of pace. New scenery. The missing people probably wouldn’t be rift related—he didn’t think the rift had spread that far from Cardiff and if it had, then they had bigger problems on their hands. No, they would likely go out, spend a day or two investigating, cook out over a campfire and trade ridiculous stories. Team bonding was something his little group could do with right now.

He picked up the files and stepped out of the office.

“Listen up, team, I’ve got a case for us,” he announced, gaining Tosh, Owen and Gwen’s attention from their work. Ianto continued cleaning up silently in the background, but Jack knew he was listening. He never missed a word.

“Missing people, out in the Brecon Beacons.” He walked over and handed the files to Gwen who immediately started flipping through them.

“Oh yeah?” Owen said, sounding unimpressed. “And what’s that got to do with us?”

Jack shrugged. “There’s a pattern. Seems a little odd. No trace of the missing people was ever found. And I mean no trace. Like they disappeared into thin air. Think it’s something we should check out.”

Tosh smiled. “I hear it’s lovely out there at this time of year, but I’ve never had the time to go.”

“Now’s your chance to see it up close and personal.” He winked at her, and the smile widened.

“Not interested,” Owen threw out, turning his attention back to his computer and the oh-so-important game of solitaire.

“It wasn’t a request,” he replied, adding just a hint of steel to his tone. “Go home, get packed, have an early night. We’re leaving bright and early in the morning. Ianto, can I see you in my office before you leave, please?”

Ianto paused what he was doing, a hint of concern crossing his features—possibly at getting singled out, but he nodded and quickly went back to what he was doing.

Owen smirked at him and said something too low for Jack to hear, but it made Ianto scowl. “So glad you think so Owen. Enjoy your trip to the Brecons, the likelihood of you getting bitten by a spider is very low at this time of year.”

Considering how much Owen hated spiders, it was a well-aimed parry and the doctor hurried off with a dark expression. Jack retreated into his office, waiting for the others to leave and Ianto to join him. The sound of the coffee machine surprised, him. Last time Ianto had stayed late into the evening and they’d had a quite coffee together, it’d been a day or two before that night with Lisa. His in-office-hours-suspension had effectively killed their routine.

A few minutes later, Ianto walked in and handed over his blue and white mug. Jack made sure to brush his fingers against Ianto’s as he took it, but if the younger man noticed, he didn’t make any indication of the fact.

“You needed to discuss something with me?” Ianto asked before taking a sip of his own coffee.

“For one, consider your in-house suspension served and finished.”

A look of deep surprise and then gratitude crossed Ianto’s features before he schooled them. “Of course, you’ll need someone here at all hours for the rift while you and the rest of the team—”

“Nope,” he interrupted, enjoying the confusion that descended over Ianto’s face and the way his brow creased. It was kind of adorable, that perplexed expression. “The rift will be fine for a few days. Had someone at UNIT who owed me a favour. You, Ianto Jones, are coming with us.”

“I am?” he replied in disbelief.

“Yep. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. Not only are we going to the Brecon Beacons, but we’re going to be doing some good old-fashioned camping.”

“Oh,” Ianto replied in a disappointingly underwhelming response. So maybe camping wasn’t his thing? “Guess I better check the camping gear is all in order, then.”

“Oh,” he said, inadvertently repeating Ianto’s reaction from a moment ago.

“You didn’t think about checking the camping gear, did you?” The exasperation was clear in Ianto’s voice, but it sounded more like a fond exasperation, not outright annoyance.

“Help me?” he pleaded, sending Ianto his best _I’m-hopeless-take-pity-on-me_ pout.

“Come on, then,” Ianto said, knocking back what was left of his coffee before getting to is feet. “We best get on with it, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Ianto Jones, you’re a life saver!” Jack jumped up from behind his desk and hurried around it, brushing a hand against Ianto’s hip without really thinking about it as he passed. He glanced back, wondering if Ianto had noticed, but he was gathering the two mugs and didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. Something within Jack settled a little. He’d missed the comfort of those casual touches over the past few weeks since Lisa. They didn’t necessarily mean anything; touch was how he’d always communicated.

But for some reason with Ianto, touching him, even casually and briefly, and having Ianto touch him in return had often settled the wildness that constantly spun like a whirlwind inside him. He didn’t understand it, only knew that occasionally he was starting to crave the quiet steadiness Ianto managed to impart with even just his presence. He’d certainly needed it the other day, after the debacle with Jasmine.

Truthfully, he also wanted to go ahead with this trip to melt the last of the ice that’d formed between him and the rest of the team. They’d mostly all come around since then, but every so often he still caught a glimpse of them staring at him and he could tell from the shadows in their gazes that they were remembering what had happened. And it wasn’t even the worst thing he’d done in his life—

He shoved the thought away as they arrived in the dusty room where the camping gear had been stored. It’d been the height of camping luxury… about a century ago. Now he was just hoping it wasn’t full of holes, rats, or some alien pest that’d gone missing down here and they hadn’t ever noticed.

“This is the camping gear?” Ianto asked in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with it?” he demanded, trying not to laugh and hoping Ianto would call him out.

“It’s authentic. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Like me.” He aimed a wide grin at the younger man.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Ianto replied with a small eye roll. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with, then.”

Ianto stepped forward and dragged out the first calico bag, coughing a little at the cloud of dust that erupted along with it. Ianto muttered some curses in Welsh as he struggled with the ties that’d probably last been undone eighty years ago. Despite the menial task and amount of dust the two of them were about to be covered in, there was a light in Ianto’s blue eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Yes, he congratulated himself, this trip to the Brecon Beacons was going to be a wonderful idea.


	25. Chapter 25

The trip to the Brecon Beacons was a terrible idea. Ianto watched as Gwen hurried after Owen, while Tosh got up and disappeared into her tent.

“Well, that certainly got awkward fast,” Jack commented, the words casual, but the tone hinting at danger.

Ianto refused to meet his gaze, it’d been bad enough a moment ago, after he’d made the comment about Lisa. Jack’s steely blue eyes had practically burned into him.

“It was already awkward. Gwen and Owen made sure of that.”

“So, what? You thought you’d up the ante?” Jack asked, all pretence of casual conversation gone now.

Anger was starting to build within him; the anger he thought he’d started ridding himself of for good. “It was hurting Tosh, anyone with half a brain could see that. Owen and Gwen—I’m not surprised, really. They’re both excellent at getting so caught up with themselves, they can’t see what’s right in front of their faces.”

“And the rest of us?” Jack demanded. “Are you saying you still feel like you’re ignored or invisible? Because I gotta tell you, Ianto, that’s a two-way street.”

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, wishing he hadn’t said anything. But Gwen and Owen had deserved it, especially Owen, who’d been a right twat ever since they’d left the hub that morning. Ianto thought he’d been ready for this. Ready to be out with the team and prove himself, that he was over Lisa, that he could contribute more than just coffee and clean work surfaces. But maybe it was too much, too fast.

“What do you want me to say, Jack?” he asked, feeling tired all of a sudden. He hadn’t slept much last night, alternating between excitement that Jack was giving him this chance, and dread he was going to mess it up. Looked like he’d achieved the latter already.

Jack got up from the log he was sitting on and came over to sit next to him on the stretched canvas camp chair he’d put together earlier.

“I want you to talk to me, Ianto, like you talked to me yesterday when you told me you wanted more. What you said about your life in London and Canary Wharf, that was the most I’ve heard of you talking about yourself since the first day you stepped into the hub. I want _that_ Ianto to be part of my team. Open and honest and willing to tell me what’s going on.” Jack shifted closer, reaching out and setting a hand lightly on his knee. The heat of his palm immediately burned through the denim of his jeans, making a shiver chase over his skin. “So tell me, Ianto, what is this really about?”

He finally met Jack’s gaze and this time saw nothing but compassion and understanding. The thing was, it was right there between them, and Jack had to be aware of it as he was—why he’d gotten so tetchy over Gwen’s stupid who-was-your-last-snog game. Why he’d had a moment of utter terror that Jack was going to name _him_. What he would say or do if that was the case? He should have known, should have trusted that Jack would never betray his confidence that way, but he’d been so wound up and then so annoyed that Gwen and Owen had upset and possibly embarrassed Tosh, he’d gone and opened his mouth without thinking about it.

That night with Lisa, after she’d thrown him across the hub, everything had gone dark in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d been knocked unconscious plenty of times—hazard of the job, really. But this had been something different, something deeper, darker and quietly more terrifying. He didn’t want to speculate that he’d actually died there for a moment or two, but it’d been a close enough thing that his mind shied away whenever he recalled it.

But then he’d been gasping awake to a warm mouth covering his, a strange heated flow of energy coursing through his body. He’d opened his eyes to find Jack shushing him, and only been able to stare up at him, feeling Jack’s arms steadying him, holding him close. For a second he hadn’t remembered what’d happened or why they’d been there, could only feel the warmth of Jack’s body against him, a residual tingle on his lips and a ground-shifting sensation inside him like Jack had managed to capture a piece of his heart and soul and breathe new life into him. Who knew, maybe he had somehow.

Except it had all shattered when he’d heard Lisa scream in that horrible robotic voice and he’d scrambled out of Jack’s hold, desperate to save her, even as his mind tried to tell him it was already too late.

That had been his last snog, even if he hadn’t been conscious at first, or a willing participant. Not Lisa like he’d taunted Gwen with. And the terrible truth was, a large part of him was glad Jack had replaced that little milestone with himself. That he didn’t have to think the last person who’d had their lips pressed against his wasn’t his dead girlfriend. There was something inescapably sad about that and Jack had saved him from it. One more tiny, little way Jack Harkness had saved him yet again.

He sighed, tentatively reaching up and setting his own hand on top of Jack’s, trying to get his thoughts in order so he had something coherent to reply with. Except Jack’s phone started ringing in his pocket.

“Hold that thought,” Jack told him, giving his knee one last squeeze before standing up and taking his phone out as he paced away.

Ianto watched him, unable to decide if he was vastly annoyed or infinitely relieved at the untimely interruption. Gwen. He’d seen her name on the screen before Jack had flipped the phone open. What trouble could she have possibly gotten herself into between now and since she’d followed Owen in the woods?

In the end, though, he wished he hadn’t wondered.

***

Ianto sat perched against the open back of the SUV, watching the emergency services moving around him in a hive of activity. He was detached from it all, completely frozen in the sea of motion streaming around him.

God, he wished he’d never come out here. But there was no use thinking about that now. It was done. Just like that night with Lisa. And this time, he didn’t know how he was going to drag himself back up again. Didn’t think he wanted to.

People. It had been _people_. They’d toyed with them. Hurt them. Taunted them. _Tenderised_ him and held a knife to his throat, seconds away from bleeding him dry before Jack had burst in and saved them all. Christ. The smell. He could still smell it, the cloying scent of blood old and new soaked into his sinuses. He leaned forward, hunching in on himself, pressing his forearms against his stomach, swallowing against the burning urge to throw up again. It was the first thing he’d done as soon as he’d stumbled out of the house. He’d gagged and gagged over and over, bringing up everything while tears had streamed down his face at the pain in his ribs. Cracked, but not broken, Owen reckoned. Didn’t matter, it still hurt like buggery either way.

And of course Jack had found him, on the ground on all fours in abject misery. He hadn’t said a word, just gathered Ianto against him and held him tight. He’d desperately clenched a handful of Jack’s coat, breathing in the familiar smell of wool and Jack’s stupid bloody pheromones, but it had calmed him. And he was still hanging onto that calm now, though he could feel it slipping away piece by tiny piece. He just had to hold it together until he got home and then this could all be over.

The thought startled him, but then he clung onto it like a drowning man. Yes, it could all be over. All of the pain and hopelessness and hollow pit where his heart should have been since Jack killed Lisa instead of saving her. So simple. Just put an end to it all. A new kind of calmness stole over him; one of acceptance.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Jack’s voice sounded above him, but at first he didn’t react, not sure if he had the energy required to even stand up and walk the three steps it’d take to get into the backseat of the SUV. Jack’s hand landed on his shoulder, sliding back and forth in a light comforting gesture.

“You’ll feel better once we get out of here,” Jack continued. “Did Owen give you something for the pain?”

“Yes,” he replied automatically. He’d taken only one, though Owen had told him to take two. It’d taken the edge off, but his ribs were still throbbing.

“Then a shower and a good night’s sleep is on the cards.” Jack’s hand shifted to grip his upper arm and help him to his feet. If he’d had any energy left, he would have laughed at the absurdity of Jack’s _good night sleep_. He doubted he was ever going to sleep again. Except for maybe in a permanent sort of way.

He listlessly let Jack steer him into the front seat of the SUV. As Jack went around and got in behind the wheel, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed only Tosh was in the backseat, staring with empty eyes out the window.

“Owen went with Gwen in the ambulance,” Jack explained, as if reading his mind.

He didn’t reply, just settled deeper into the seat and rested his head back, letting the countryside blur by and not focusing on anything.

The drive back to Cardiff went by in silence apart from Jack turning on an easy listening station about halfway back. The music drifted over him and he hadn’t really paid attention to any one song. Maybe Owen’s pain killers were doing a better job than he’d thought.

Jack dropped Tosh off first, telling her to call if she needed anything and take the next day off. She wouldn’t, probably. Because who wanted to sit alone in their flat and think about being eaten by cannibals when the hub offered all kinds of distractions?

Surprisingly, Jack didn’t try to talk to him during the short drive to his flat. However, when they got there, he didn’t simply pull up out the front like he had done at Tosh’s place. He parked and then tossed off his seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” It was the first words he’d spoken in hours, and his throat felt raw and dry.

“Coming up. Those ribs— I can help. If you want.” Jack’s gaze roamed over him, worry evident in his expression.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to be rescued by Jack bloody Harkness.” He shoved open the door and stumbled out, clamping his jaw at the burning lance of pain in his side.

“Ianto!” Jack called out through the open door.

“Just go away, Jack. I want to be alone.” He slammed the SUV door before Jack could say anything else and hurried into the building and up to his flat. Everything he’d built in the past few weeks since Lisa died had crumbled. It had all been a lie, anyway. A flimsy lie. How could he think things would ever be alright again? How could he believe things would ever really get better? How had he started feeling like Jack— How could he have started wanting— God, Jack had killed her, for God’s sake. The woman he’d loved more than life itself. And he’d gone and betrayed that memory in the worst way possible. It was sick that he could so easily turn, yearn so deeply for comfort and more in the arms of her murdered. What the hell was wrong with him? 

Inside, he didn’t bother with the lights. He didn’t need them to find the bottle of vodka. Someone had given it to him for his last birthday, a moderately expensive brand. He and Lisa had started talking about moving in together, and he’d been saving it to celebrate when they did. He’d even spoke to his flatmate, Soren, about the possibility he would be moving out soon. It’d never happened, of course. No, Canary Wharf and Jack Harkness had happened instead.

He twisted the lid off and gulped it down until his lungs were burning for air. Except he only gasped in a short breath before desperately downing another half dozen mouthfuls. He stumbled into the loungeroom and perched on the edge of the couch as the memories battered him yet again, the cold biting metal of the knife, the burning friction of rope on his wrists, the throbbing ache of his ribs. The smell. Oh God, that horrible gut-clenching smell.

He pulled the pills out of his pocket and shook one out, gulping it back with another mouthful of vodka. The alcohol was setting in fast and as he stared at the little bottle of pills, he was suddenly afraid of himself. Because he wanted to take the whole bottle. There was a part of him that calmly insisted it was the easiest, most obvious answer. But he didn’t really want to die, did he? He didn’t know. Oh God, maybe he did. He needed an anchor, needed the one constant in his life over the past few months, whether he’d wanted him to be or not. He fumbled for his phone, hardly able to focus on the screen. His fingers wouldn’t cooperate to dial any numbers, and his mind wouldn’t supply any correct digits for him, so he blindly called a number on the recent contacts list. Except he wasn’t really sure the voice that answered was the one he wanted to hear.

“Mandy?”

The barmaid’s voice was pleasant like always, jarring against the chaos in his mind.

“I got these pills,” he told her, trying not to sob. “I can’t— I can’t do this.”

Everything started blurring around the edges, darkness dragging at him, Mandy’s voice fading away to be replaced by the sound of knives sharpening and screams echoing in his mind.


	26. Chapter 26

It’d been a week since things had gone so wrong in the Breacon Beacons. Gwen and Owen seemed to have found a way to cope fairly well—Jack suspected with each other, but he didn’t really want to know. They were adults, quite capable of making their own decisions and sex was a good way to process, deal with, or simply exorcise all kinds of things. If it started impacting the functionality of the team, then it might become a problem, but until then, he figured he didn’t need to know either way.

Tosh had come to him and told him she was having nightmares. He talked her through them, even spent a night just sitting at her flat and being there when she woke up. It was taking time, but he was sure she was recovering. She’d come in a little off this morning and seemed to space out a few times over the day, but maybe she’d had a bad night. Setbacks were bound to happen, but he was hoping she’d come to him again if she needed anything.

As for Ianto…

He sighed as he walked to the window in his office and watched the youngest member of the team handing out coffee. Ianto might have been the youngest in age, but Yvonne had recruited him almost right out of high school—going off his personnel file he couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen when he’d signed on with Torchwood, which meant he technically had more experience than the rest of his team members. Right now, however, he was the most vulnerable. Canary Wharf, followed closely by the trauma around finally losing Lisa, and now the cannibals— Ianto had come so close to being killed. He hadn’t found out until later, but Ianto had sacrificed himself for Tosh to escape, endured a beating, and had been seconds away from having his throat slashed when Jack had burst in on the tractor.

Up until the Breacons, he thought Ianto had finally been starting to come out of the walls he’d built around himself. But in a matter of hours, any illusions of his recovery had been shattered and now Jack was feeling like Ianto was further away than ever.

He’d gone back to being stoic, almost listless. He was pale, even for a Welshman, and always looked tired—likely not eating properly and he’d admitted to Jack he wasn’t sleeping very much the one time he’d tried to talk to him. Ianto had otherwise been determined to pretend he was fine. Clearly, he wasn’t but Jack had tried everything to coax something, _anything_ out of him—included him in cases, gone with him to get lunch for the team just to spend time with him, flirted, joked, been extra charming, but nothing in his considerable repertoire of interpersonal skills had made a dent in Ianto’s armour.

He went about his duties with perfect, polite efficiency, said all the right things and made all the right moves, but Jack was truly worried about what was going on in that head of his. Something was going to make him crack, it was just a matter of time.

***

Jack glanced up from where he’d been carefully cleaning dirt out of the controls of the prisoner transporter they’d dug up the day before, along with a dead body that Owen had misdiagnosed in every way possible. The whole team seemed out of sorts today. Tosh on edge for some reason, leaving him wondering if she’d found out about Gwen and Owen. The two of them weren’t exactly being subtle.

Meanwhile Ianto had been even more quiet than usual and he knew he was going to have to do something about him, as soon as he made sure the alien that’d no doubt come to Earth using this piece of tech still wasn’t around making problems.

The hub was quiet and he vaguely remembered being told goodbye by at least Gwen and Tosh, but he wasn’t sure how long ago that might have been.

He straightened and then stretched, muscles stiff from being in the same position for so long. But it’d been worth it. He was fairly sure he might be able to get the transporter working again. Might come in handy if he ever needed to make an emergency jump anywhere.

He wandered out into the main section of the hub, a little miffed that Ianto had left without offering one last coffee like he usually did…unless Ianto had and he’d been so caught up in what he’d been doing, he hadn’t noticed. He went and checked his desk, thinking even if there was a cold cup sitting there, he’d probably still drink it, but unfortunately his desk only had a new stack of paperwork Ianto had left for him—no coffee in sight.

As he stepped out of his office again, a hint of noise caught his attention, the slightest rustle of clothing and then a hitched breath. He glanced over at the couch, only to see Ianto curled up on his side, fast asleep. Or, maybe not fast asleep. He was definitely sleeping, but he was restless, brow furrowed and breathing unevenly.

Jack went over and tugged the blanket off the end of the sofa, but as he unfolded it, Ianto suddenly made a noise that almost sounded pained, and certainly distressed, followed by a litany of mumbled _no-no-no_. An ache clenched his chest and he crouched down, debating whether to wake Ianto from the nightmare or wait to see if it subsided.

If Ianto was getting so little sleep that he’d—probably accidentally—fallen asleep on the couch instead of going home, then he didn’t want to wake him. Plus he knew Ianto would probably be embarrassed about it. Anyway, if he woke him, Ianto would simply hurry off home and then spend the rest of the night awake for all he knew. At least here, he would know Ianto was actually getting several decent hours’ sleep, and the old couch was surprisingly comfortable, it was why he’d kept it and never bothered getting a newer one, even though he knew the rest of the team thought it was horribly dated and shabby.

However, the nightmare seemed to be increasing in intensity, as Ianto’s protest became more insistent, even as he sounded more terrified. Jack reached out carefully and brushed his fingers through Ianto’s hair, quietly shushing him. It seemed to settle him a little, but didn’t calm him altogether. After a few moments, even knowing Ianto would probably be horribly embarrassed if he knew, Jack toed off his boots and carefully clambered onto the couch, taking Ianto in his arms. He shifted them around until Ianto was lying half on his chest with his head tucked under his chin, and to Jack’s surprise, Ianto immediately curled into him, snuggling closer.

The nightmare settled right away and as Ianto’s breathing evened out, he knew he’d done the right thing. Spending a few hours with Ianto in his arms to make sure he got a decent night’s sleep definitely wasn’t a chore. He just needed to make sure he got up and left before Ianto woke and found them snuggling. He doubted Ianto would be very happy about it.

Which, in the end, he was completely right about, because he fell asleep as well. Not the light, short doze he mostly lived off these days, but a deep, boneless sleep he hadn’t experienced in possibly years. So when a low voice murmured “Jack?” sounding confused and still half asleep, for a moment he forgot where he was and why, only that he was waking up to the very pleasant warmth of someone in his arms—something else he hadn’t done in many, many years. Yes, he often went out and got laid, but actually sleeping with someone—being that vulnerable with another person—was something he very rarely shared, and only with people he trusted implicitly.

He tightened his hold and nuzzled into the thick head of hair that smelled faintly of grapefruit and ylang-ylang shampoo and somehow vaguely familiar.

“Jack!”

Ianto scrambled out of his arms and Jack nearly fell off the couch as he suddenly lost his counter balance.

“What?” he demanded, sitting up and trying to drag his mind out of the murky depths of the almost drugging sleep he wasn’t used to having these days. “What’s wrong?”

He focused on Ianto who’d crowded up against the other end of the couch.

“What the hell were you doing?” Ianto asked, eyeing him warily.

“I—” What had he been doing? It took him a second to recall the night before. “You fell asleep after the others went home. I came over to put the blanket on you, but you were having a nightmare so I—”

Ianto gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “So you thought you’d molest me in my sleep?”

“Hey!” he snapped, the barb hurting a little more than he might have expected it to. “If I wanted to molest you, I’d do it while you were wide awake so we could both enjoy it. And excuse me, but you were the one who cuddled up to me.”

Ianto’s mouth dropped open, looking suitably shocked, before he shot to his feet. “I’m going home.”

Jack stood a little more slowly, wincing at the slight ache in his back as Ianto snatched up his jacket from the coffee table.

“It’s seven thirty, the others will be here soon.”

Ianto paused, shoulders bunching. But then he sighed, looking resigned. “I’ll just take a quick shower and change into my spare suit, then.”

He started to move off, but Jack stepped over and caught his arm. “Ianto, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention. But you settled after I— There’s no shame in it. I spent a night at Tosh’s flat because she was struggling with the nightmares. I just wanted to make sure you got a good night’s sleep.”

Ianto finally looked at him, blue eyes clearer than they’d been all week. Maybe that sleep had done him some good after all.

“Did you?” he found himself asking in a low voice. “Sleep well?”

He sure as hell had. Actually, if anyone should have been freaking out, it was him. He couldn’t believe he’d gone under so deeply, his body now filled with a pleasant lassitude he hadn’t felt in too long.

Ianto stared at him for a long, weighted moment before finally nodding, the movement so shallow he might have missed it if he hadn’t been watching so carefully. After, Ianto cleared his throat and gently pulled out of his grasp.

“I better get going, got some work I wanted to get done in the tourist office this morning.”

Ianto didn’t wait for him to reply, but hurried off toward the changeroom and showers.

Jack blew out a long breath and headed for his own shower down in his bunker. He didn’t know if he’d made things with Ianto better or worse…but he didn’t regret a thing.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this chapter is taken directly from a scene in the Torchwood audio Broken (no copyright intended!) so the dialogue throughout that section is not mine :)

The hub was blessedly quiet as Ianto fired up the coffee machine. Four a.m. was quickly becoming his favourite time of day. The rest of the team wouldn’t be here few hours and Jack was out on a rooftop somewhere—either that of shagging his way across Cardiff, he guessed. Whatever he was doing, Ianto didn’t care and didn’t want to know.

He didn’t know why he’d been so set on impressing Jack bloody Harkness for the last few weeks. The man who killed Lisa, for God’s sake. He’d let Jack’s charm, Jack’s wide smile, his flirting, his trailing gaze and the lingering touches distract him from the truth; that Torchwood was a hell he would never escape and Jack Harkness was the monster who smiled and led them all into danger day after day.

It wasn’t like he’d ever leave, he had nothing else, after all. But that didn’t mean he had to like it, or like Jack. Especially the fact that he did eighty percent of Jack’s work for him. Like the latest missing person’s cases. He took his coffee and went to retrieve the files off Jack’s desk, taking them over to the couch. He had a moment’s hesitation, however, before he sat down, remembering waking up in Jack’s arms two mornings past. A flare of heat surged through him, but he stubbornly pushed it down and made himself sit without thinking of it again, taking a steadying gulp of the coffee.

Though he’d already glanced through the files once and there didn’t seem to be anything connecting the victims, this time he took careful notes and charted the details of each person’s life. By the time seven a.m. rolled around and he'd quickly put the files back in Jack’s office as the lift lowered from the Plass, he’d created a disturbing picture. All of the people who’d gone missing had troubled lives; recently divorced, a drug addict, a teacher with too many debts and so on. None of them fit a classic suicide profile he didn’t think, but they all might be the type who'd want to start over in a new life. The other startling piece of information they all had in common that he didn’t want to believe? They’d all last been seen within a block or two of the Ferret.

Though he hated the thought that Mandy or the pub had anything to do with the string of disappearances—surely he couldn’t be that unlucky that the one person he’d been able to talk to since Lisa was behind something nefarious—a few things the barmaid had mentioned to him over the past weeks started looking different when he considered them in a more cynical light.

The notion that he now had to consider Mandy a suspect in the missing persons cases made him even angrier than he’d already been, even as it hurt far more deeply than it should have. He didn’t mention it to anyone, however, even as Gwen asked Jack yet again to take a look at the files, who yet again brushed her off, and another person was reported as missing. No, if Mandy had anything to do with it, he couldn’t believe it was because she was a bad person. She’d practically saved his life—had come rushing over to his flat when she thought he’d tried to off himself. Those weren’t the actions of a bad person. So he kept his findings to himself. He’d feel Mandy out, test the waters and if he found something that needed taking care of, then he’d figure out a way to do that without anyone getting hurt or killed.

The day dragged by, and that night, Jack killed Tosh’s alien girlfriend, Mary, without a hint of remorse. Yes, Mary had come to Earth as a political prisoner and killed countless people since, but Jack didn’t even try to talk to her, didn’t bother figuring out whether they might be able to rehabilitate her or if there was a more humane way of dealing with her, had simply sent her into the middle of the sun with the cocky remark about it not being too hot since it was night out.

It had hit so close to home, brought back the terrible memories of Lisa, reminded him of exactly how much he’d loathed Jack that night. After Mary was gone, when he’d debriefed a tearful Tosh and tried his best to comfort her—even though he’d known there was nothing he could say to make it better—he’d vowed that he wasn’t going to let Jack kill anyone else so carelessly. And if something was going on with Mandy, then he was going to take care of it without Jack being any wiser.

He left the hub shortly after Tosh and went straight to the Ferret, rehearsing what he was going to say to trip Mandy up. It ended up being frightfully easy, even though he drank a bit too much and told her more than he should have—including the fact that Jack had killed Lisa. And it would have worked out fine, if Jack bloody Harkness hadn’t stumbled into the bar and right into the middle of his plans.

*******

Oh God. Jack was gone. Ianto hung up the call from his mam, who’d just told him the doctors had found a suspicious lump, but she didn’t want him to worry. And when the reality of _that_ had sunk in—the sickening fear that his mam might have cancer and could die—the first person he thought about turning to, the one person his instincts told him he needed in that moment was _Jack_. Except he’d sent Jack through the rift to an alien planet for a life of slavery.

He’d been so angry, so desolate after everything. The answer had seemed simple; get rid of Jack, get rid of all his problems. He’d promised, after all, the night Jack had killed Lisa. He’d told Jack he was a monster and one day he’d stand by and watch him suffer instead of saving him. And fuck, he’d followed through on it with barely a second thought. Told the Saviour to toss Jack into the rift and then walked out of the pub and actually thought for a few minutes he was free.

Except he wouldn’t ever be free. Not really. Life was always going to find a way to kick him in the balls, and as much as Jack had been a source of animosity, confusion and conflict, Jack had also always been there for him, no questions asked, even after that night with Lisa. The thing was, none of it was Jack’s fault. Not Lisa, not any of it. It’d all been _him_. He’d dragged Lisa from the ruins of Torchwood One, even knowing UNIT was _dealing with_ the other half-converted survivors because the risk of any cyber technology leaving the destroyed tower was too great. He’d brought her to Cardiff and deceived his way into his job. He hadn’t let himself see that Lisa was too far gone, even though the signs had been there all along. She’d built a conversion apparatus, for God’s sake. Right above the unit that was supposed to be keeping her alive. He certainly hadn’t installed the equipment and the only other one with the knowledge and access to the room had been her. He just hadn’t wanted to face it and realise how wrong he’d been all along. That he really had put the team and the world in danger because he’d stubbornly and blindly refused to let go.

Jack had never been the source of his problems. Jack was light and warmth and the few times he’d actually been happy or not felt utter despair in the past few months since Canary Wharf always been with _Jack_. And for that, he’d sent Jack through the rift to face an existence of certain torture and slavery.

“Oh, God, what’ve I done?” He sprinted back into the pub to find Mandy still in the basement with the Saviour. He’d given her a chance she probably didn’t deserve since she’d knowingly sent countless people to alien slavers. But still, he let her run and leave Cardiff far behind. He then ordered the Saviour to take him through the portal to find Jack.

When the alien led him to a room to find them testing Jack’s abilities—whatever that meant—he demanded they turn it off. Except Jack went limp, and as he started unbuckling the restraints holding him in place, stumbling over an apology, he realised Jack wasn’t breathing.

“Jack?” He leaned closer, grasping both his shoulders. It felt like his heart had turned to stone. Except in direct contrast, it was like the numbness he’d been living with for all the months since Canary Wharf suddenly cracked and fell away, letting a surge of sound and light and sensation rush over him. And right now, all of that burning emotion was focused on one thing; Jack Harkness. He had to save him.

“Jack!” Ianto set a hand in the middle of Jack’s chest. He was unnaturally still. “He’s not breathing. You killed him!”

The Saviour scoffed at him “Well, to be fair, you sent him here.”

He turned his back on the alien, desperately trying to recall the first aid training he’d done so long ago with Torchwood One. He couldn’t let Jack die. Not after all this. He needed Jack to be okay, to prove just once the entire universe wasn’t completely screwed up and out to personally stomp him into the ground over and over.

Leaning down over him, he breathed air into Jack’s lungs and then pumped on his chest, his mind so full of desperation he couldn’t remember how many breaths and how many compressions he was supposed to give.

On the third breath, however, Jack gasped in a long dragging pull of air, eyes snapping open.

“Jack! Jack, look at me.” He cupped Jack’s face in his palms as Jack focused his dazed blue gaze on him. “Oh God, it worked.”

Jack reached up and grasped his upper arms, holding tightly to him, as if trying to anchor himself while he caught his breath. “Were you— were you kissing me?”

“I just… I think I just saved your life.”

“Yeah.” Jack finally seemed to get his thoughts in order and shook his head slightly. “Actually—”

He gave a breathless laugh, blue eyes sparking warmly as he stared up at him. “That was some kiss.”

“That wasn’t a—” Typical bloody Jack. He gave up and tentatively returned his smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

He started to help Jack up, but the Saviour advanced on them. Ianto yanked out the gun from the back of his trousers and shot him through the leg without hesitation. No way was he letting anything stand between him and getting Jack home to Cardiff.

They ran from the room and didn’t stop running until they’d reached the street outside the pub. That was when the reality of everything he’d done sunk in. Sending Jack to an alien world to be tortured had to be a worse betrayal than hiding a half-converted cyberwoman in the hub and nearly causing the end of the world, didn’t it? But for some reason he wasn’t afraid of Jack, didn’t doubt for a second that Jack would forgive him. Just knew he simply had to take the first step and Jack would be there to meet him.

“Jack, I’d like a second chance. Please,” he said, staring with steady earnestness at the man who could amuse and aggravate him in the same breath, who could tempt and torture him with a single look, who would always be there to pick him up no matter how far or how hard he fell.

“I’m parked around the corner, you’ve five minutes.” Jack pointed an unsteady finger at him, voice now brimming with anger and a hint of hurt. “You come with me, face the consequences, or you run.”

Jack whirled and strode away without waiting for an answer, coat flaring out behind him as he disappeared down the darkened alley.

He wasn’t going to run. There was absolutely no question in his mind. This was where he belonged. He was irrevocably bound to Torchwood Three and Captain Jack Harkness. And for the first time, he didn’t feel shackled. He felt at home.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is once again taken from the audio Broken, but the second half is taken from a fic I wrote awhile ago called Tomorrow. In this instance, though, I've flipped the POVs around to what was originally in Tomrrow and extended the scenes for more detail. Smut warning... I did promise smut eventually, didn't I?

Jack sat behind the wheel of the SUV, watching every single second of the five minutes he’d given Ianto crawl by. When the clock ticked over the final number, he released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He started the SUV, telling himself his chest was aching because of his most recent brush with death, not at the idea that Ianto had chosen to run—leaving Torchwood, leaving _him_.

When the door opened and Ianto climbed in, quickly buckling his seatbelt and launching into an immediate apology, he almost didn’t believe it, even as relieved warmth began unfurling through his limbs, the tightness in his chest loosening and draining away.

They drove in silence for a few moments until Ianto prompted him into opening up. Despite everything that’d happened between them, there was a lightness, an affection between them that hadn’t been there before. When Ianto told him to pull over, for a second he thought he might have gone too far—making a joke about Ianto’s coffee. But as he stared across the short space between them under the glow of the streetlights above the SUV, he let all the feelings for Ianto that’d been steadily growing within him since the first day they’d met drift heedlessly through him, not fighting them any longer. Tonight, somehow, going through the rift and back, it was like they’d forged a new relationship through fire.

Ianto meant so much more to him than he could ever admit, especially to Ianto. He’d come to realise he needed Ianto in a way he’d rarely needed anyone. If Ianto had decided to run tonight, he didn’t know what he would have done. Somehow, Ianto had become his greatest strength and biggest vulnerability without him even noticing. Despite the idea of _more_ between them crossing his mind for a brief moment, he kept things lowkey.

“Ianto, you are my friend. No matter what you do, I’m here for you.” He wanted to reach across and take Ianto’s hand where his fists were clenched in his lap. Usually he would have without a second thought, but for some reason, he felt like they were at a tipping point and didn’t want to push Ianto over the edge—even though he had no idea what that edge might be.

“I’ve been in so much pain,” Ianto admitted raggedly. “Everything hurts.”

“I know, I know,” he replied quickly. “And I would do anything in the world to take that pain away.”

He meant every word in a way he hadn’t with anyone else for a long, long time.

“Kiss me?” Ianto’s gaze searched his, open vulnerability in his blue eyes.

At first, Jack told himself he’d misheard, his heart skipping wildly in his chest. Ianto couldn’t have said—

“What did you just say?” The disbelief in his voice was more than obvious.

“You could kiss me.” Ianto seemed to lose some of whatever bravado had allowed him to say the words, dropping his gaze momentarily. “I mean, only if you wanted to.”

“What?” he stuttered.

Ianto had managed to completely stun him. This wasn’t him. What happened to polished Jack Harkness, in control of almost any situation, always smooth and suave when it came to the game of seduction? So many times, he’d imagined kissing Ianto. He’d _never_ imagined that Ianto would be the one to initiate. No, not initiate. Ask his permission. It was ridiculous and adorable and he was fairly sure he wanted it more than anything he’d wanted in his life.

“I’m more complicated than you might think.” Ianto looked up at him again and there was a gleam in his eyes that made Jack’s pulse skip a beat. “Sir—”

“Well, I—” He didn’t know what he was going to say, but whatever it was vanished into thin air as Ianto leaned across the console between them and caught his mouth, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder, bringing him closer as Ianto kissed him thoroughly, but much too quickly. Ianto pulled back and looked at him, a question in his gaze.

“You kissed me.” He was stating the obvious, but he couldn’t help it, his brain had stopped functioning properly sometime in the last few minutes and there was no way he was going to have a coherent thought when Ianto was staring at him like that; more hope and warmth in his eyes than he’d seen since the first day he’d walked into the hub.

“I did. And you kissed me back.” A shy smile edged over Ianto’s lips and Jack swore he went into heart failure for a moment.

“Yeah… But this—” He didn’t want to douse the light in Ianto’s eyes, but he’d already had this conversation with himself a dozen times over in the past few months, both before and after Lisa. “Relationships at work are never a good idea.”

Ianto didn’t seem the least bit deterred, however.

“Who said anything about a relationship?” He gave a casual shrug. “We’re both screwed up, maybe this is what we need.”

“Maybe,” he said, though he knew it’d never be that simple. He was tempted to let Ianto down gently, stop things now before they went any further. Except that kiss had been—

That kiss had been a revelation, and even knowing that taking things further could ruin their fledgling friendship, he wanted it all. Maybe if they only spent one night together—blow off some steam and take the edge off—then things wouldn’t get complicated or messy, and he could keep whatever it was he had with Ianto.

Because that was what it all came down to. He needed Ianto Jones and didn’t want to lose him, even if it meant denying himself a physical relationship to ensure their friendship wasn’t destroyed.

“But just this once, yeah?”

“Just this once?” Ianto repeated, as though it hadn’t been what he was talking about, but maybe like him, was willing to take it over nothing.

“Tomorrow we go back to whatever passes for normal in our lives.” It was almost laughable. Nothing about Torchwood was normal.

“Tomorrow,” Ianto said, as if making a promise.

For a moment they stared at one another, anticipation and a touch of uncertainty building between them. Finally, though, Ianto shifted forward slightly, tilting his head, an invitation clear in his gaze. Jack cupped his cheek, leaning in to find Ianto’s lips with his own, suddenly remembering that night on the floor of the warehouse when they’d caught Myfanwy. God, he’d wanted Ianto to lean down that night and press his mouth to his. And ever since, he’d been trying not to imagine what Ianto would taste like, what Ianto would feel like, what kind of warmth would spark in his chest from the sensation of Ianto’s mouth against his.

Now he was glad it hadn’t happened then, because this— _this_ was so much better. Everything that’d happened in the past months, all the anger and hurt and betrayal and desolation, as well as the flirting and the tension and the touches and the shared looks—all of it came rushing out between them, suddenly turning the kiss from a tentative exploration to a desperate explosion of longing.

After a few long minutes, Ianto pulled back, both of them panting, gripping each other tightly. “Mine’s just around the corner.”

He managed a nod and then turned his concentration to getting the SUV back on the road. Neither of them said anything and as he glanced at Ianto, he realised the younger man’s expression had become pensive as he stared out at the darkened streets. He hoped Ianto wasn’t having second thoughts, but honestly, he would be surprised if he did actually end up going through with this.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he commented, trying to keep the tone casual, not wanting Ianto to feel pressured. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” Ianto answered immediately. “I was thinking about Lisa.”

Of course he was. Because Lisa was undoubtably the last person he’d slept with and now he’d all but propositioned the person he’d blamed for killing her. Jack had so many regrets surrounding that night. He didn’t know how Ianto had ever managed to forgive him. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe this was all a terrible idea like he’d first told himself. He was suddenly desperate to know whether Ianto still blamed him for everything.

“Ianto—” The single word came out halting and he swallowed down the tension in the back of his throat. “I’ve never—I tried, probably not hard enough, to talk to you. And I know we’ve been over this, but that wasn’t Lisa.”

“I know that now. And I don’t blame you. The Lisa I knew died at Canary Wharf. I realised I wasn’t angry at you for killing her, I was angry at you for not—” Ianto took a sharp breath, emotion playing across his features. “I was angry at you for not saving me.”

He pulled up in front of Ianto’s flat and turned to stare at him, not quite comprehending what Ianto was telling him. “You wanted me to save you?”

“I don’t think I realised at the time that’s what I wanted, but it hit me tonight. I wanted you to help me. To save her like you save everyone else. I needed you, and instead you sent me back in to kill her myself.” There wasn’t any judgement in Ianto’s expression as he stared at him, just understanding and acceptance that Jack wasn’t sure he deserved.

He glanced away, regretting the way he’d treated Ianto that night, his utter failure in the critical moment because he’d let his emotions overwhelm him and reacted in hurt and anger, instead of thinking the situation through and dealing with it logically. If it’d been anyone else, he would have been coldly angry and detached, would have done what he needed to with the precision of a surgeon. Instead, it’d been Ianto and his emotions had made a mess of an already horrible situation.

“I shouldn’t have done that, Ianto. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight. All I knew was that you’d betrayed me. I’d trusted you in a way I’ve trusted very few people. You’ve got all the passwords to the hub and archives. I’d given you access the others didn’t have and you used it against me.”

When he finally looked back at Ianto, he was staring down at where his fists were clenched against his thighs, a slight hint of colour on his cheeks.

“I’m not proud to admit it, but I think part of me wanted to punish you, to hurt you the way I was hurting,” he continued in a low voice. “Once you went down into the hub and I started to cool down, I realised what I’d done, not to mention Gwen gave me more than a small piece of her mind. That’s why we came down after you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it, and you shouldn’t have had to.”

Ianto took an unsteady breath, but didn’t say anything, didn’t look up at him, hardly moved. He wished he knew what was going on in Ianto’s head right now, but that’d always been his problem, he couldn’t read Ianto. Not the same way Ianto could read him.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t save you,” he murmured quietly, hoping he hadn’t already manage to completely ruin things between them when they’d finally come to a place where they seemed to be on the same page.

“You don’t need to apologise. I’m not your responsibility.” Ianto finally lifted his head, but he stared straight out the windscreen at the darkened street beyond.

“But you are,” he insisted heatedly, finally drawing Ianto’s attention. “As my employee, as my friend. And I haven’t been doing a very good job at looking out for you.”

Mandy had certainly made sure he knew that tonight, telling him things about Ianto he hadn’t imagined. She’d made him see that once again he’d completely missed how much Ianto was struggling when he’d vowed after Lisa he wouldn’t let that happen again. He took a breath, some of the questions from earlier resurfacing in his mind. He was afraid of driving Ianto away, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Ianto, I needed to know. Mandy said she saved your life. Her exact words were _I know what he tried to do the night you came back from…_ She was talking about the Brecon Beacons, wasn’t she?”

Ianto shifted, noticeably tensing as he tore his gaze away.

“You’ve already guessed, do you need to hear me say it?”

He reached over a took Ianto’s hand, needing to touch him, needing to make the physical connection, as if that alone might give him the answers. “Ianto, please.”

Ianto heaved a sigh and shoved his free hand through his hair. “I considered it. I had the pills Owen had given me, and a bottle of vodka. I took one pill and drank most of the vodka. I was thinking about taking the rest when I called Mandy. Luckily the vodka chose that moment to kick in and I passed out before I could decide.”

He couldn’t help tightening his hold on Ianto’s hand, part of him afraid Ianto still wanted to take the easy way out swiftly followed by dread athow close he'd come to losing him that night after the fact and he'd never even realised it. “Would you really have done it?”

“I don’t know.” Ianto’s voice was hoarse, his expression stricken as he took a moment to swallow. “I honestly don’t. I’d thought about it. After Canary Wharf. After Lisa. But those people in the Brecon Beacons—”

Ianto shook his head, a shudder trembling through his body as he tugged his hand from Jack’s grip.

“I can’t talk about this anymore.” Ianto shoved open the SUV door and lurched out, letting in a waft of chilly air before slamming the door behind himself.

Jack quickly threw off his seatbelt and scrambled out. As he rounded the nose of the SUV, he hurried to catch up with Ianto who was quickly striding up the footpath to the door of the building. By the time he reached the door, Ianto was unsuccessfully trying to shove his key into the lock, but his hands were shaking too much.

Jack silently cursed at himself for bringing up the recent bad memories of the Brecon Beacons and reached out to gently slip the keys from Ianto’s grasp.

“Here, let me,” he murmured. As he leaned forward past Ianto to unlock the door, the younger man let out a sigh, and Jack caught a brush of warmed air swirling over his neck. A light shiver tracked down his spine and he glanced at Ianto as he pushed the door wide, but Ianto simply stepped past him and led him silently up the stairs, clearly lost in thought.

At his flat, Jack let them in since he was still holding the keys. Ianto went right through, throwing his coat and suit jacket across the arm of the couch and continuing on into the kitchen where he pulled out a bottle of scotch from an upper cupboard.

Jack set Ianto’s keys on the hall table and silently walked into the kitchen to lean against the adjacent bench, watching as Ianto wordlessly got down two glasses and poured them a measure each. When he turned around, Ianto momentarily seemed surprised to see him standing there. He crossed the few steps separating them and held out the glass.

Taking it with a murmured thanks, he watched, a little concerned, as Ianto tossed his back in one go and then immediately poured himself a second.

He sipped at his own, not really in the mood for hard liquor tonight, not like Ianto clearly was.

“Ianto,” he said slowly, before he’d even really gathered his thoughts. “Next time things get that bad, please, call me first. I know I haven’t exactly proven otherwise, but I’ll try to be here for you, if you need me.”

Ianto brought his head up to stare at him with an almost thoughtful expression on his face. “And if I need you now, tonight?”

His pulse picked up speed, but he forced himself not to read anything into it, despite the earlier kissing. “Then I’ll stay. We can have another drink or two. Talk or not talk, whatever you want.”

Ianto very decisively set his glass down on the counter and then slowly reached up and took his drink that he’d barely taken a sip from. The clink as he put the second glass down seemed impossibly loud in the sudden, weighted silence of the small kitchen. There was a naked heat in Ianto’s eyes when he looked at him this time.

“I thought I made it clear in the SUV that talking isn’t what I’m interested in.”

Jack clamped his hands on the counter behind him, covering the movement by quirking a brow at Ianto. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to lunge across the two steps separating them to kiss the hell out of him. He had to leave control to Ianto—let him decide how much he wanted and how far to take things. Ianto had started this, and the last thing Jack wanted was to do anything that might make him change his mind.

Ianto reached up and slid his hand to the back of his neck, and Jack clenched his jaw over a groan at the pleasure of that simple touch. Leaning in, Ianto brushed his lips lightly over his, almost in experimentation, and Jack exhaled a ragged breath, fingers aching where he desperately still held onto the edge of the bench.

The hand at the back of his neck slid up into his hair and Ianto grasped a tight handful before pressing in and kissing him more deeply, tongue caressing his lower lip before sweeping into his mouth. Apparently, his self-control wasn’t nearly as good as he’d thought, because Jack couldn’t hold in a wanton groan, and next thing he knew, he had Ianto up against the bench, taking control of the kiss almost desperately.

But Ianto seemed just as frantic, trying to drag him closer, even as Jack pressed tightly up against him, hips shifting restlessly together. He nearly lost what little sanity he was holding onto when Ianto thrust into him, the rapid swelling of his desire obvious.

Ianto started pushing impatiently at his coat and he let it slide from his shoulders to land on the kitchen floor behind him with a soft thump. It was obvious where this was all leading, but a single thought kept nagging him right out of lust-haze he wanted to sink into.

One Saturday night a while ago, the team had all drank a little too much at the hub and started swapping sex stories—he was pretty sure Owen had started it, but the others had been drunk enough to go along. Ianto had remained quiet throughout, even though he’d been just as pickled as the rest of them. Finally, though, when they went around and named the person they’d lost their virginity to, Ianto had mumbled _Lisa_ and passed out a few moments later. Luckily, none of them had remembered much of that night—he only did because he hadn’t been drinking—so nothing was ever said about it again. Ianto had slept with at least one other person that he knew of, some other woman that'd worked at Torchwood One named Rachel. 

If the two women were the only ones Ianto had slept with, then there was a very good chance he’d never been with another man before. While some of the mechanics were basically the same, there were some obvious points of difference, and he needed to know so he could make sure Ianto was completely comfortable with everything that happened between them.

He reluctantly broke the kiss, pulling back to find Ianto’s blue eyes darkened with desire. It almost made him forget what he wanted to ask in favour of kissing him again.

“Ianto, I need to know, and I’m sorry if this makes things awkward for you, but have you ever been with a man before?”

A deep flush of colour spread across Ianto’s cheeks and pretty much told him all he needed to know. “Does it matter?”

He gave a quick shrug, trying to keep things casual. “It might. But only that I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. If you want to stop at any time, no matter what we’re doing, just tell me, okay? I don’t want you to regret anything that happens tonight. I think between the two of us, we already have enough of those.”

“I’m not going to regret this, Jack.” Ianto sounded very definite about that fact, and the raw need in his gaze couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he murmured, leaning in to trail kisses along Ianto’s jaw, making him moan.

“No,” Ianto replied in a low, uneven voice.

He pulled back to gauge his expression, getting the sense Ianto was being contrary on purpose. “No you haven’t answered, or no you haven’t been with a man before?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Now shut up and kiss me.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the demand, nor doing exactly that. He pulled Ianto back in, sealing their mouths together as he tugged him away from the bench. Ianto took his lead and steered them toward his bedroom, all the while breathlessly pulling off and discarding clothes between kisses as they went.

By the time they reached the bedroom there wasn’t a stich of clothing left between them. He tumbled Ianto back on the bed, even as the younger man eagerly pulled him down on top of him. Jack took a second to revel in the sensation of warm, naked flesh pressing to warm naked flesh, shamelessly rubbing himself the entire length of Ianto’s body. Ianto didn’t seem to mind, though, not if the way he groaned and arched into him was any indication.

God. He wanted to taste Ianto _everywhere_. He skimmed his hands over the plains of gorgeous pale flesh, following with his lips and tongue, appraising each and every response he elicited. In this, Ianto was easy to read. He was open and abandoned in passion in a way Jack would have never guessed, clearly relishing every sensation coursing through his body.

Eventually, Jack moved his ministrations to the one place he’d purposefully been denying himself—and Ianto. He shifted down, licking one long stroke from base to tip, leaving Ianto gasping and fisting the sheets beneath him. Jack allowed himself a quick grin of satisfaction before taking Ianto into his mouth and putting all his considerable experience to good use. So hard himself, he was nearly aching, Jack wrapped a fist around his own arousal, stroking in time with the rhythm he’d set for Ianto. He only meant to give himself some minor relief, but when Ianto suddenly arched into his mouth and shouted his name, he abruptly spilled over his own hand, even as he swallowed down every drop Ianto expended.

Gentling him to the other side of his sudden climax, Jack kissed his way up Ianto’s stomach and chest, then dropped boneless on the bed next to him.

Ianto rolled his head to the side, gaze now sated and sleepy. “Do you need—”

He laughed, then leaned in to press a kiss to Ianto’s neck. “Let’s just say I enjoyed your orgasm as much as you did.”

Ianto smirked a little, then let his eyes fall shut, clearly heading for sleep fast. He wasn’t surprised. It’d been a long day and even longer night.

Jack got up and went into the bathroom, finding a flannel to wet. He returned to the bed and cleaned them both, then gently pulled the blankets up to Ianto’s shoulders. He took a moment to chuck the cloth back into the bathroom and then slid into the bed, eager to feel Ianto’s warm body up against him again. However, Ianto rolled away from him and for a second, disappointed threaded through him, leaving him wondering if maybe he should just dress and leave. Except then Ianto subtly wiggled backwards, so he dropped an arm around Ianto’s waist and hauled him closer until his chest was pressed to Ianto’s back.

Ianto sighed, sounding completely content. A few seconds later, his breathing evened out, and Jack knew he’d fallen asleep. He cuddled closer, letting himself doze and wondering when he should end the one night he’d told Ianto they could have. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. It’d been too long since he’d been comfortable enough to simply lay in bed with someone, feel their steady breathing and heartbeat against his chest. He probably should make sure he wasn’t here in the morning, or things might get awkward fast, which would result in exactly what he wanted to avoid; their friendship being ruined.

A few hours later, he came out of his doze to a hand threading into his hair and the feel of Ianto’s lips grazing his jaw. He made a happy noise as he found Ianto’s mouth, the kiss sleepy and lazy and perfect. Neither of them rushed as hands slid leisurely over bodies and they shifted slowly against one another.

Jack soon found himself rummaging through Ianto’s nightstand draw, triumphantly finding a tube of vitamin E lotion that was perfect in a pinch. Ianto never uttered a single question or looked unsure for a moment, even as he slicked his fingers and then took his sweet time making sure Ianto was ready. He still remembered his own first time; it’d felt strange, but nice. He wanted more than just _nice_ for Ianto. He wanted Ianto mindless with pleasure and sinking into every sensation.

When he finally, slowly, gently slid into Ianto, both of them groaned and Ianto lifted his hips into him as if he couldn’t get enough. Jack held onto his control by a few tenuous threads. He measured each stroke and matched it with his hand around Ianto’s erection, riding the building crescendo of Ianto’s ragged breathing, murmurs of pleasure in fragmented Welsh and English, to his gasping and tensing, and the final broken moan as Ianto came in his hand. Jack pressed into him one last time as his own pleasure washed over him in deep, dragging waves, inundating his entire body.

He was still trying to catch his breath when Ianto went right back to sleep again, features relaxed in a way Jack had never seen before. He cleaned them up for a second time and then settled back down beside him, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that said he wanted to see Ianto just like this, every single day. Because he knew his heart couldn’t take it. Not again. They were better off friends. That way, when Ianto inevitably died on him like everyone he was ever destined to know, then maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t hurt quite as much.

He also ignored the little voice that told him maybe it was too late.


	29. Chapter 29

Ianto drifted out of slumber as his alarm started beeping. Usually he went from sleep to waking in a snap and never thought twice about getting right out of bed and ready for the day, no matter the time. This morning, however, for the first time in months, he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. The thought of leaving the cosy cocoon of his duvet was not a pleasant one. He groggily reached over and tapped the alarm off, not even liking the fact he had to stick his arm out of the blankets.

He rolled over and started to stretch, deciding for once he’d let himself lie in just a few extra minutes, except he collided into a very solid, very warm body, causing a sleepy grumble to emerge from the pillow next to him.

Oh.

Oh bloody hell.

 _Last night_. Last night he’d shagged Jack Harkness. That was why a heavy, pleasant lassitude had settled into his body. Honestly, he hadn’t expected Jack to still be here. Not that he’d given the morning after any thought whatsoever. And not that he’d ever let himself actually consider sleeping with Jack, and what would happen before, during, or after. This had all been completely unplanned and while still running on the adrenaline last night, going with the spur of the moment had seemed like an excellent idea.

He didn’t regret it. Not in the least. Not considering the way Jack had—

His body flash-heated. Shit. Thinking about that was not a good idea. He was already half-hard because being a twenty-something man, that was just how he woke up most mornings. But remembering exactly what Jack had done to him last night had his cock literally standing up to attention in a matter of seconds. He had _never_ experienced pleasure like that before.

One intense night with Jack Harkness was never going to be enough, but it was all Jack had offered and although he’d kissed Jack first, he did draw the line at begging for more…even if it would be worth the loss of his dignity. Even now, all he could smell was the alluring, warm scent that was uniquely _Jack_. His fingers practically itched at the idea of reaching out and touching Jack’s firm, tanned, smooth skin, leaving his body all but vibrating with need. _Damn it_. He had to escape before he made a complete idiot of himself. 

Jack still seemed to be asleep, maybe he could just sneak into the shower—

“Stop thinking so loudly.” A lazy grin flitted across Jack’s lips before he opened his eyes.

There was a hint of something in Jack’s gaze as he stared across at him—uncertainty, maybe a touch of ruefulness, as though perhaps he hadn’t planned on being here in the morning, but had fallen just as deeply asleep as Ianto had.

“Hey there,” Jack murmured, titling his chin up a little.

The drawled syllables made his heart skip for some stupid reason.

“Morning,” he replied for lack of anything else to say. “Um, sleep well, then?”

Ugh. Why did he ask that? So much for not making an idiot of himself.

Jack, however, nodded very seriously. “Actually, I did.”

Said as if it was the most surprising thing that’d happened last night. He thought it was rather more remarkable he’d shagged his boss, who also happened to be a man, and instead of feeling awkward or uneasy like he’d done something extremely wrong, it all felt too right; including waking up to find Jack snuggled up beside him and staring at him all sleepy-eyed. He swallowed, telling himself very firmly _not_ to lean across the short distance and kiss him. Jack had said one night, and it was very definitely morning.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower,” he sat up, letting the duvet fall to his lap. Jack’s gaze warmed as it travelled his upper body, then his teeth caught his lower lip. It was like sending a bolt of heat through his entire body that all pooled in his groin.

 _Bloody Jack_. Did the man honestly have no idea how he looked when he did that? Ianto gripped a handful of the duvet and took a steadying breath, which had the effect of Jack finally returning his gaze to his face, his blue eyes now smoky with desire.

“So, the shower, huh?” Jack said as he shifted up to lean against the headboard.

Ianto very determinedly ignored the tenting issue in the blankets that Jack wasn’t trying to hide—not like he was by keeping a whole wad of the duvet gathered in his lap—and kept his gaze fixed on Jack’s face.

“Yup. It’s a good shower.” Where he really, really should get up and escape to, except his body was not obeying his mind.

“Mm,” Jack hummed thoughtfully. “Big?”

Ianto swallowed, the back of his throat suddenly dry. “Big enough to fit two.”

 Where did _that_ come from? It was like he’d lost control of his mouth.

A slow, sexy grin spread over Jack’s face and Ianto knew he was done for.

“Definitely big enough to fit two,” he repeated hurriedly as he practically launched himself across the distance between them.

Jack met him halfway, catching him up in a deep, hungry kiss that melted every bone in his body. Oh hell, he didn’t think his legs would hold him up long enough to make it to the shower. Except just as he was ready to drag Jack on top of him, Jack suddenly broke the kiss and bounded out of bed with way too much energy.

Ianto flopped onto the mattress and blinked after him.

“Come on, I need you soapy and slippery from head to toe.” Jack flashed his blue eyes at him—along with a come-hither smile—and then gave Ianto a very nice view of his arse as he disappeared into the bathroom. A second later, the rushing sound of water started up and Jack’s words finally sunk in. He scrambled off the bed, glad Jack wasn’t there to see him almost trip on the duvet in his haste, and hurried into the bathroom.

Jack was already standing under the spray, the water cascading over the taut stretches of muscles down his chest and stomach. Ianto had never thought seeing another man in the shower would turn him on so much. Except Captain Jack Harkness was bloody gorgeous. Every little inch of Jack made him want to bodily throw himself at the man and rub up against him until—

Jack beckoned him with a crooked finger.

Ianto didn’t need to be asked twice. He hopped in, running the shower curtain closed behind himself and leaving them in their own steamy, private world. He stepped right into Jack, capturing his face and taking back up with the kiss he’d so desperately wanted. Jack made a low noise of approval, pulling Ianto closer until they were tight up against each other. When their erections pressed together, Ianto couldn’t help the gasp that stuttered into a surprised moan.

Jack pulled back and reached for the bottle of shower gel with a grin of anticipation.

“Cocoa butter, vanilla and coconut?” Jack read out loud.

He felt his cheeks getting warm in a way that had nothing to do with the hot water. Maybe it wasn’t the manliest scent, but it smelled good and he like the way it made his skin—

 “You’re just asking to be licked all over,” Jack drawled as he emptied a large dollop into his palm. He rubbed his hands together and then pressed Ianto back against the wall. He shivered as his skin came in contact against the cold tiles, but that was quickly forgotten as Jack delivered on his promises and thoroughly soaped Ianto from neck to ankles, until his whole body was slicked. When he was done, Jack didn’t rinse him off. Oh no. He shifted in and kissed him, their bodies now slipping sensuously against each other.

Jack reached down between them, closing a slippery hand around both of their erections. The stroke up and down was firm and velvety smooth, while the heated hardness of Jack’s erection against his was unbelievably erotic. All Ianto could do was concentrate on holding himself up—though it was possible Jack was doing most of that for him as well—while pure ecstasy washed through his body like liquid mercury. Jack leaned down and kissed just above his collarbone, then up his neck, sending light shivery sensations racing across his skin. And then Jack found a sensitive spot just below his ear and sucked hard, sending a rocketing torrent of pleasure through him. He bucked against Jack’s hand, Jack’s name bursting from his chest on a groan as he came—as they both came at the same time, pressing helplessly into one another.

Bloody hell, he was never going to be able to use that shower gel again without getting turned on.

After, as he tried to catch his breath, he found himself gripping Jack close, who was slumped against his chest with his chin on Ianto’s shoulder as if he couldn’t quite hold himself up yet either. Their mingled breath, the scented steam, the way he could feel Jack’s heart pounding against his chest, echoing his own… _This_. This was what he needed. But Jack had said _just this once_ , and Ianto didn’t know what he was supposed to do with that.

***

It was once again the dark of pre-dawn as Ianto drove his Audi through the streets of Cardiff and parked in the underground garage of the Millennium Centre, then went through the non-descript, unmarked utility door that eventually led down into the hub.

The lights were low, but Jack was in his office, sitting at his desk like every other morning he’d arrived before dawn. He shivered as he went around turning on lights and waking up the computers from standby. It seemed colder in here than usual. He made a mental note to go down and check the heating unit—a contraption that’d been installed decades ago in a miss-mash of technologies from Earth and several alien races. It’d been playing up on and off for the past few weeks and he was fairly sure there was a kind of control panel that needed replacing, but he’d been putting it off because he knew it would take at least a couple of hours to do. Today might have to be the day he finally took care of it, however.

Jack came out to lean against his office doorway. He wasn’t quite dressed—his braces hung at his hips, blue shirt undone showing the white T-shirt underneath, cuffs loose and rolled up to his elbows. There was something almost intimate about seeing Jack like this, and he had to tear his gaze away, trying not to remember how Jack had looked naked and stretched out on his bed.

“This is becoming a habit again,” Jack said casually. “In before dawn and home late at night.”

He paused, stomach flipping uncomfortably at Jack’s reference to the fact last time he’d consistently come in so early day after day had been in the weeks leading up to Lisa—

This time, it wasn’t a secret keeping him at work all hours. It was the simple fact that Jack was always here, which meant company. At home in his flat, it was too empty and quiet.

“When was the last time you saw the sun?” Jack asked with a hint of amusement as he stepped forward.

“It was—” he thought back, at first unable to remember until it finally occurred to him it’d been four days ago, the same day he and Jack had slept together. He felt his cheeks heating and turned his attention back to bringing the hub to full power for the day.

“Can’t remember, huh?” Jack tsked at him. “Something wrong with the bed at your flat?”

 _It hasn’t got you in it_ he wanted to say. And every bloody time he laid down in it, he couldn’t help replaying that one night they’d spent together. He’d changed the sheets four times and still swore he could smell a lingering echo of _Jack_. He’d known one night wouldn’t be enough, and part of him wished it’d never happened for the simple fact that now he wanted Jack so much it was almost a physical craving.

“Just not tired,” he replied, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “I’ll get the coffee on, shall I?”

“Sounds good.” Jack started to turn back toward his office, but then paused. “Oh, by the way, have you seen that expenditure report Whitehall wanted?”

“I put it on your desk last week.”

Jack gave an almost careless shrug. “Can’t find it.”

He shook his as he bee-lined for the kitchen. Jack would insist he couldn’t find it, then Ianto would go in there, move a few things and locate it exactly where he’d said it would be. “It’s there, sir. Check again.”

He could hear Jack’s annoyed muttering all the way across the hub and smiled to himself as he made them a coffee each. By the time he stepped into Jack’s office, the captain had finished dressing properly and was sitting at his desk. Jack’s grey-blue eyes lit up as his gaze landed on the mug in his hand.

Instead of handing it over, however, he set it on the corner of the desk, not trusting himself with even the slight brush of fingers. The last few days, their casually flirtatious relationship had reinstated itself, a lot like the first weeks he’d been here, before Lisa and before Gwen even. Except now the innuendo and suggestive asides had an extra dimension that hadn’t been there before. A knowledge of exactly what all that flirting could lead to. A teasing trace of ecstasy that constantly simmered below each interaction. Despite the extremely unsubtle and occasionally risqué exchanges they constantly engaged in, the rest of the team were clueless they’d actually slept together, he was certain of that.

“Did you find it yet?” he asked as he sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. A safe distance away from temptation, he figured. He took a moment to breathe and check his tie was straight before taking a measured sip of the coffee. He could act like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t distracted by the idea of kissing his boss at least fifty times a day. Like he wasn’t thinking about shoving Jack down on the desk and—

 _Damn it_. He had to get control of himself. Jack had said _just once_ , and despite the flirting, hadn’t given any indication he’d changed his mind about that. The problem was, Jack was like the sun after a long, dark cold winter. He craved the steady, warm light of his presence, and that night they’d spent together—having all that heat and intensity directed at him—had woken him from the sleepwalk he’d been trudging along in since Canary Wharf. Jack had given him something no one else could have, had revived his very soul and dragged him from the depths of his own personal darkness. The last thing he wanted was to sink back into it, and while he knew it wasn’t healthy to rely on someone else to hold him up, it wasn’t like that, exactly. At least he didn’t think it was. More like Jack gave him a reason to stay afloat, as opposed to Jack being the one keeping him afloat. He knew he could keep his head above water, as long as Jack was there.

He belatedly realised that several silent moments had gone by and Jack was studying him with an unreadable expression on his face, a slight frown drawing down his features as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, hoping his thoughts just now hadn’t been showing on his face.

“Just got a lot on my mind,” Jack replied quickly, turning his attention to the cup of coffee and taking a moment to enjoy his first sip for the day like he always did. Ianto found his gaze riveted to Jack’s lips on the rim of the mug, and when his tongue swept out across his lower lip, it was all he could do not to groan in frustration. Jack didn’t help matters. The expression of pleasure flitting over his face was a close approximation to—

_Stop, damn it!_

“Anything I can help with?” he heard himself asking, thoughts speeding on to all kinds of _help_ he wanted to give Jack, none of which were the least bit professional.

“No.” Jack cleared his throat, avoiding his gaze as he shifted in his seat like he was uncomfortable. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just the burden of being the boss.”

He nodded his response, wrapping his hands more tightly around his mug and shivering. The temperature in here was definitely dropping.

Jack noticed and frowned at him. “What’s up with the heating today?”

“The heating system has been playing up. I’m going to go down and take a look at it as soon as I’ve finished my coffee. Hoping to get it fixed before the others get here or I’ll never hear the end of it from Gwen. Besides, the cold isn’t good for Myfanwy.”

“Need me to give you a hand?”

Ianto caught the smirk Jack tried to hide.

 _Yes, God, yes!_ he almost blurted out desperately. Instead, he sent Jack a look that told the captain he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I’ll be on comms if I do.” He pushed to his feet, nodding at Jack’s mug. “Do you want a refill before I head down?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Jack held out the mug with one of his signature charming smiles.

“Wouldn’t say if I did, sir,” he replied smoothly, pretending that smile wasn’t making his insides flutter as he took the cup and left the office.

He made Jack a fresh coffee and this time when he set the coffee on the desk, he leaned over to set it above the spread of Jack’s paperwork, making sure his chest momentarily pressed into Jack’s shoulder in retaliation for the _give you a hand_ comment.

Jack glanced up at him and murmured a thank you, a husky edge to his voice that Ianto decided to count as victory in that little exchange. Feeling somewhat satisfied, he headed down to the bowels of the archives to start working on the heating system. It was a little closer to Lisa’s old room than he was comfortable with being. The memories of that night still had the power to make him feel sick and leave him in a cold sweat if he dwelled on them too much. Lucky the heating system proved to be an adequate distraction. Despite the cold temperature, he stripped out of his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves as he got stuck into replacing the part that was causing most of the issues.

He wasn’t aware of the time passing, but awhile later, he heard the scuff of boots and looked up to see Jack stopping to lean next to the nearby wall, crossing his arms as his gaze seemed to roam over him appreciatively.

“How’s it going?” Jack asked, something warm in his tone.

No, he had to be imagining it, the intimate note to his voice. He took the screwdriver out of his mouth where he’d been holding it while he fitted some of the final connections in place.

“Almost there.” He glanced at his watch, wondering why Jack had come down to find him instead of using the comms, until he saw the time. It was almost noon. “Sorry, didn’t realise it was taking so long. I suppose the others are complaining about the lack of heat and coffee. Did their whinging send you down here, or did you all draw straws to see who had to come find me in the dark depths of the archives?”

Jack pulled over a second crate and sat down next to him, peering into the machine’s inner workings. “Neither. Just thought you could use a hand.”

He sent Jack an exasperated frown. “I told you, I’ve nearly got it. But since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. If you can hold those wires back, it’ll make it easier for me to tighten this last component.”

“Here?” Jack pointed to a clump of wires snaking through the middle of the machine, sitting in front of the main control board. He nodded distractedly as Jack started to reach for them.

“Yes, just don’t touch the—”

“ _Ow_!” Jack yanked his fingers back as something inside sparked.

He dropped the screwdriver, heart crashing into his ribs as Jack swore and shook his hand. That must have burned him; no doubt about it considering how many volts were running through there.

“Let me see.” He captured Jack’s flapping hand and held it up to the light. Cool relief spiralled through him since it didn’t look at bad as he’d feared it would. The tips of his fingers were reddened, but there were no obvious burns or blisters.

“You should probably get Owen to take a look at this.” He brought up his gaze to find Jack staring at him, not his hand. And he was suddenly very, _very_ aware of how close they were sitting and how warm Jack’s hand felt in his.

“It’ll be fine,” Jack murmured, not seeming the least concerned about the injury. His eyes seemed to darken a touch and Ianto’s pulse skipped into double-time.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, mostly to keep himself distracted from the fact that Jack’s lips were right there and _oh Christ_ he wanted to kiss him.

A sexy half-grin crossed Jack’s face.  “It’s only a small boo-boo. Maybe I just need someone to kiss it better for me.”

He knew Jack meant it as a joke, but before he could even think about reining in the impulse, he pulled Jack’s hand closer to himself and slowly leaned in, keeping Jack’s gaze to gauge his reaction as he kissed the pad of each finger one at a time.

Jack’s breath hitched, seeming entranced, a naked hunger kindling in his eyes. It only spurred him into further recklessness as he returned to the first finger and this time took the tip between his lips, then sucked gently. Except suddenly it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted _everything_. He dropped Jack’s hand and surged forward. Jack rushed in, meeting him halfway as their mouths came together in a ravenous kiss.

Ianto clamped his hand on the back of Jack’s neck, deepening the kiss as he greedily took everything he’d been craving for the past few days. He tumbled Jack backwards off the crate, but Jack was tugging him impatiently down at the same time, ending with them on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

He drank in the taste of Jack, the firm, flexing feel of his body solid beneath him, the delicious wickedness of sinking between Jack’s thighs and the consuming resonance of gasped breaths and needy moans.

Jack suddenly shifted beneath him and before he could work out his intent, had Ianto’s belt unbuckled in record time. He sucked in a sharp breath at the idea of Jack wrapping a fist around his aching cock and pushed up to stare down at him.

“Just to be clear,” he panted, barely resisting the urge to rub himself shamelessly against the man beneath him “We’re about to shag on the floor of the archives in the middle of the morning with the team waiting upstairs for us to fix the heat.”

Jack shrugged, as far as he could while lying on the floor still holding onto Ianto’s belt.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Thought so.” He dropped back down and caught Jack’s mouth in another heady kiss as he impatiently started unbuttoning Jack’s shirt, tugging it from his pants a moment later. More than anything, he wanted to throw off every stitch of clothing between them like they had the other night at his flat, but it was too damned cold and try explaining that to any of the team if one of them came looking. As it was, they’d removed enough between them to be completely indecent. Sod it, there was still probably no way of explaining this away if they got caught, but he honestly didn’t care.

Jack made a move to roll them, but Ianto resisted and shook his head, catching Jack’s eye for a moment and letting a wicked smile slip free. “I think it must be my turn.”

“Your turn?” Jack repeated, a hint of confusion flashing over his expression.

“Oh yes.” He didn’t pause to enjoy the gorgeous bewilderment, he was too busy laving his tongue across exposed skin and tracing his mouth over Jack’s body, exploring him in exactly the way he’d imagined the past few nights alone in his bed. When he finally got down to Jack’s hips, Jack made a surprised groan when Ianto took him into his mouth without warning.

He’d never in his entire life imagined giving another man a blow job until Jack had done it to him the other night, and since then he pretty much hadn’t thought about anything else. The ideal had held surprising appeal. More than that, the idea of it had outright turned him on and reality was not proving to be a disappointment. Though this was the first time he’d done it, he knew what he liked himself and applied it liberally with Jack. The way the other man arched and moaned beneath him was sending latent surges of pleasure through him, leaving him practically vibrating with his own need.

When Jack started coming, he pulled off—not because he didn’t want to swallow, actually the idea of that just about made him explode himself. Instead, he caught the end of Jack’s orgasm in hand and then dragged his slippery fingers down and eased one inside Jack’s body. This time, Jack’s surprise was almost a shout and a secondary, follow-up shudder rolled through his body. Ianto spent brief moments teasing him—maybe too brief—but he wanted Jack so badly he was almost ready to come apart at the seams.

“Now, Ianto,” Jack said over a broken exhale. “Take me now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He slid into Jack on a long, low moan, lost to the tempest whipping up inside him. It was hard and fast—he was so far gone it couldn’t have been anything else. The detonation whitewashed all sight and sound until there was nothing but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through every cell in his body.

He dropped down onto Jack’s chest, mostly because his arms gave out. But Jack didn’t seem to mind, closing his arms around him and holding him close as they both caught their breath. Oh God. That had been just as mind-blowing as the other night. Maybe even more so. Clearly whatever was between them—and he didn’t want to examine or identify it—couldn’t simply be ignored. _Just once_ wasn’t ever going to work, no matter Jack’s intentions to the contrary.

“We might have a problem,” he murmured, making sure to add a teasing note in his voice.

“You mean the bruises I’m going to have from the way you—”

“No.” He gave a quick laugh as he sat up, studying Jack in concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Of course not.” Jack rubbed his hands up and down both Ianto’s arms in a comforting gesture. “So what’s the problem, then?”

“I seem to remember we agreed  _just once_. Not that I’m complaining.” He dropped his gaze, not wanting Jack to see all the things colliding inside him. If Jack decided this was a problem— If Jack didn’t want it— He didn’t know what he was going to do, because this was the best thing that’d happened to him for ages. He needed the simplicity of it. The effortless way he could get lost in Jack. The break from reality where nothing else mattered.

“We did,” Jack agreed, his voice thoughtful. “But maybe we need to revisit those terms.”

Relief swelled through him as he met Jack’s gaze again. “Does there have to be terms? Can’t we just— I don’t know. Not decide anything. Just enjoy ourselves. Whatever happens, happens?”

“Whatever happens, happens,” Jack agreed with a smug grin. “As long as  _this_  happens with regularity.”

He leaned down and kissed Jack on the jawline, before scraping his teeth lightly over the spot, leaving the other man shuddering beneath him. “Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Jack gave a satisfied-sounding laugh in return as Ianto pushed to his feet and stepped back to start putting himself to rights. Jack, however, stayed where he was, reclined on the floor with his shirt and pants gaping open, eyes hooded and glowing with warm gratification, the ultimate picture of debauchery. It was all he could do not to suggest they find somewhere a little more comfortable and continue where they’d left off.

“I feel like work is suddenly going to be much more satisfying,” Jack announced.

He raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment since he could already imagine where _this_ was heading.

“I mean, I get Ianto’s coffee… and I get Ianto. You’re going to ruin me for any other employees for the rest of my life,” Jack continued with a wink.

“That’s the plan,” he replied in a low voice with a quick grin.

Jack groaned as he rolled to his feet. “Come on, we better get the heat fixed and get back up to the hub before I forget why we can’t spend the day naked in bed together.”

That sent all kinds of _fun_ images chasing through his mind, and he took a moment to indulge in them as he returned to where he’d been sitting earlier to finish fixing the heating system. “Definitely we should do that. On the weekend.”

Jack sat down next to him again, sexy grin spreading over his face, no doubt his thoughts going in the same direction. Despite what they’d just been doing, his cheeks warmed with a blush and he ducked Jack’s gaze.

The other man gave a low chuckle, reaching up to trace a light finger along his jaw. “Don’t ever change, Ianto Jones.”


	30. Chapter 30

Jack automatically woke to the sound of the cog wheel door opening, echoing around the empty hub. Half-sprawled across his chest, Ianto stirred but when Jack stroked a hand through his hair, he settled again instead of waking.

Voices echoed—Gwen and Tosh. Jack shifted slightly to reach for his watch sitting on the old wooden crate he used as a nightstand and found it was already eight a.m.—no wonder the girls were here. Ianto was going to have kittens when he woke up and realised he was about to be caught sneaking out of the bunker.

“Jack?” Gwen’s voice sounded like it carried from the doorway of his office. At least she hadn’t walked all the way over to the hatch. “Don’t tell me you’re still in bed lazy bones!”

Ianto started awake in his arms then went still, his entire body tensed.

“You caught me having a lazy morning,” he called back. “I’ll shower and be up in a bit.”

“No worries, take your time.” Gwen’s voice shifted as if she was walking away. “What do you think’s become of Ianto, then? He’s always here first. Can’t remember the last time I got in before him.”

“His car is in the garage. He’s probably down in the archives,” Tosh answered distractedly as the cog wheel opened again.

“Shit, the weather’s right foul out there this morning,” Owen announced as he came in. “Why isn’t Ianto already standing in front of me with a coffee?”

Jack snickered as Ianto groaned in annoyance.

“You’ve spoiled them,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into Ianto’s messy hair.

“Only them? What about you?” Ianto brought his head up to stare at him, a touch of sleepiness still in his expression and a warmth in his gaze Jack had started wanting to see a little too much lately.

“Oh, you’ve definitely spoiled me most of all,” he replied in a low voice.

A small smile kicked up one side of Ianto’s lips before he leaned in and kissed him. Not chastely or quick peck. Oh no. Ianto lapped at his lower lip and then slid his tongue into his mouth, sending a delicious shudder through him. He sure as hell wasn’t complaining, but—

Breaking off the kiss with a stuttered breath since Ianto had shifted fully on top of him and nudged a knee between his legs, he stared up at his general administrator who right this minute should have been making the first round of coffees for the team.

“Um, Ianto—”

“Mm?” Ianto enquired, having moved his mouth over his jaw and down his neck.

“The rest of the team are just up there—” He broke off with a strangled curse when Ianto bit down gently on one of his nipples.

Ianto gave a low chuckle and brought his head up just a little, giving Jack a glimpse of sparkling blue eyes and a wicked smile.

“So? You heard Tosh. I’m probably down in the archives.”

“You—Ianto, you’re not—” Whatever he was going to say got lost in a sharp inhale when Ianto wrapped a hand around his swiftly hardening cock.

Ianto shifted, leaning in until his lips brushed his ear. “See, if I’m down in the archives, then I’m certainly not here and we definitely aren’t going to shag.”

“Definitely not,” he breathed out in return, arching his hips off the bed to thrust deeper into Ianto’s fist. Good God, who would have ever guessed Ianto Jones was hiding such a wicked streak beneath those perfectly pressed suits and reticent smile?

Blood thrumming through his body with excited anticipation, Jack flipped them over, Ianto settling beneath him and looking gratified as if it was exactly what he’d wanted. Jack took up kissing him, groping for the lube on the nightstand and knocking their keys, wallets and phones to the ground in a jangle of noise instead. Ianto snickered, but Jack took care of that, locating the lube and quickly slicking his fingers.

He certainly wasn’t laughing anymore when Jack gently stroked two fingers inside him. Ianto didn’t make a sound, just bit his lip over a rough exhale and closed his eyes, clearly holding back on the urge to moan long and loud like he often did when Jack drove him beyond all sensibility.

The restraint and lack of sound only made him that much more aware of the way Ianto’s body was responding to his touch and attentions, until he knew Ianto was ready and he sunk greedily into his body. Jack watched the expression of pleasure chasing over his gorgeous features, watched the way his muscles in his arms and chest tensed and flexed as he shifted restlessly beneath him. God, he was beautiful; rapidly coming undone stroke by stroke. Absolutely abandoned in ecstasy in a way Jack had rarely enjoyed with any others.

These last few weeks since he and Ianto had first slept together had been a comprehensive and enthralling education into all things Ianto Jones. There were sides to him Jack had never expected to find. Nearly every day brought him a new surprise and he’d always been a sucker for someone who could keep him on his toes—especially since not many people could successfully do it.

There was also no denying Ianto had settled in the last weeks in a way Jack hadn’t seen the entire time the younger man had been working at Torchwood Three. Like Ianto finally felt he could be himself. He was still reserved, still held much of himself private, but that was just his personality. Despite that, Jack got the sense that Ianto was maybe starting to feel like he actually belonged, had a purpose in life again that didn’t revolve around keeping his half-converted girlfriend alive and in secret. He didn’t know how he’d ever thought just one night with this man would ever be enough.

Now, Ianto wrapped a leg around his waist and forced him deeper, his jaw clenched and fingers digging into his biceps hard enough to leave bruises. He hoped it did bruise—he wanted to look at the marks later and remember this exact moment.

Keeping hold of any coherent thought was getting harder and harder as Ianto met him thrust for thrust, a small, desperate moan escaping him. Jack dropped down to catch his lips in a kiss, muffling any other noises and shuddering at the way Ianto gasped beneath his mouth.

Ianto’s fingers threaded into his hair, tugging the strands and it ended up being his undoing. He slid a hand between their bodies, taking Ianto in his fist and stroking quickly, vainly trying to hold off his own orgasm, even as he felt it tearing up from within him.

He buried his face in Ianto’s neck, plunging deep into him one last time as pure ecstasy washed over him, made all that much more acute as Ianto bit down on his shoulder, muffling a low groan against his skin. It sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through him, kicking the detonation to the next level, even as he felt the warm swelling wetness of Ianto coming between them.

“Damn, Ianto,” he breathed out as he collapsed boneless on top of him. Ianto simply huffed a satisfied-sounding sigh and closed his arms around him, still with one leg wrapped around his waist.

They really needed to get out of bed and get started for the day, but he found himself not even wanting to pull out of Ianto, let alone get off him or leave the bunker.

Sounds slowly filtered back in; the team chattering away as they started working for the morning; clearly without a clue of what had been going on beneath his office.

Finally though, Ianto shifted, pressing a kiss to the shoulder he’d been biting down on a few minutes ago.

“Much as I enjoy having you on top of me, you’re kind of heavy and apparently I need to breathe.”

Jack kissed his way up Ianto’s neck until he found his mouth, enjoying a nice, long, post-shag snog. Eventually, however, he made himself get up and led Ianto to his ensuit bathroom. It was probably the tamest shower they’d taken together—and they’d taken a number of them in the last weeks—but they still lingered over slow kisses and tender strokes.

Ianto stepped out of the shower and shot him one last irreverent grin as he dressed, Jack’s heart kicked against the inside of his chest. God, the man was irresistible. And Jack could feel cracks weakening his resolve. Could feel an old, long-forgotten familiar warmth sparking to life. One he certainly didn’t need or want to feel. How many times had he told himself relationships at work were a bad idea? Hell, he’d told Ianto exactly that the first night they’d kissed. But this wasn’t a relationship. No. Not only couldn’t it be—it’d get too messy and complicated, it always did—but it also wasn’t what Ianto wanted or needed.

Ianto just needed a good friend and a warm body to lose himself in. And for that matter, Jack didn’t need anything more than that himself. The Doctor could turn up any day. The last thing he needed was to get emotionally involved with someone, let alone actually fall in love. After the last disastrous time, he’d sworn never again—not while he was here on Earth, not in this time, not with any of these people.

A lump formed in his throat and he glanced away from where Ianto was knotting his tie with smooth, practised movements. God, no, he couldn’t do that to himself again. It never got any easier—watching the people he loved die. Actually, it felt like it was getting harder. He’d lost too many, too fast since he’d landed on Earth and realised he couldn’t be killed.

The warm glow of his night and morning in bed with Ianto fled in the face of icy reality. He started dressing, a cold shiver chasing over his skin.

Ianto, meanwhile, was done and lacing his perfectly polished black dress shoes. “See you up there.”

He scaled the ladder nimbly, pausing—presumably to make sure no one was in sight of his office—before hurrying the rest of the way up and disappearing from sight.

Jack dropped to sit on his bunk, the faint scent of Ianto and sex wrapping around him, making his pulse skip, making him yearn for more already like Ianto was a drug he was fast becoming addicted to.

“Oi, Jones!” He heard Owen yell. “I need coffee. Where’ve you been?”

“Archives,” Ianto answered smoothly. “You’re welcome to take over re-organising them anytime you want.”

“Christ, no. You can keep them. We all know how much you get off being down there.”

“You’ve no idea how right you are, Owen,” Ianto replied in a perfectly flat voice and Jack couldn’t help a laugh escaping considering he and Ianto had done exactly that a few days ago. He pushed to his feet and finished dressing, putting the confused and worrying thoughts aside.

This thing with Ianto, it didn’t need to get complicated, he didn’t need to overthink it. Didn’t need to worry about Ianto reading more into it or getting clingy or demanding things of him he wasn’t ready for or wasn’t able to give. Ianto was the one who’d set the parameters, he was the one who didn’t want strings. He’d been right, it was exactly what they both needed right now. This and nothing more. Simple. Uncomplicated. No commitment and no entanglements.

And if he felt hollow, if he was starting to suspect he needed Ianto Jones in ways he didn’t understand and didn’t want to admit, then like all the other things he didn’t like facing within himself, he’d simply close them into a part of his mind he never ventured and cover it with a smile.

*******

Jack sunk boneless into the thin mattress of his bed, completely wrung out, catching Ianto’s weight as he dropped heavily on top of him.

They were a mess, no doubt about it—both of them covered in what Ianto would probably deem an alarming amount of lube, sweat and the sticky results of Ianto propositioning him with the stopwatch.

God, it was exactly what he’d needed after everything that’d happened with Suzie. For the first time since he and Ianto had started sleeping together, he’d completely surrendered control and let Ianto take over, let him steer the direction of their mutual pleasure and Ianto had taken the reins _very_ effectively. He definitely liked being in control—probably not surprising considering his personality.  

What had really rounded out the entire evening with surprising satisfaction had been Ianto’s absolute dominance of his body in everything he’d decided for them both. Except for the lube. That’d been him. But Ianto’s strangled curse over getting covered in the cold gloop had quickly turned into decadent moans at the slip and slide of their bodies against each other.

They’d started out playing with the stopwatch, but it had quickly evolved far beyond that to a place Jack had very rarely let himself go with very few people. Ianto had absolutely no idea, and probably never would, but tonight he’d completely and vulnerably put his entire trust, his entire essence of self into Ianto’s very capable hands and now, as the younger man’s breathing evened into sleep where he was still slumped on top of him, Jack found himself feeling deeply sated and immensely grateful Ianto had tripped into his life, despite everything that’d happened with Lisa.

Even that terrible night, though a small echo of hurt lingered, he’d started viewing it as a testament to the person Ianto was. His loyalty, his devotion, the way he loved selflessly and with his whole being—he wasn’t a man who did anything by halves and in his weaker moments, Jack had started wondering what it’d be like to have that depth of emotion and devotion gifted to him. He had Ianto’s undivided loyalty, of that he had no doubt. And their friendship was deepening and strengthening with every passing day, their after-hours activities (and sometimes during-hours as well) luckily not complicating the platonic side of their relationship. Sometimes he felt himself slipping, however, and wondering if they couldn’t have just a little more without it all blowing up in his face.

It was just a fantasy, though. Ianto didn’t want that from him—he’d made that clear from the start and never said anything else about it—and it wasn’t like he could give Ianto anything in return, except for a goodbye when Ianto was inadvertently killed in the line of duty or the Doctor finally turned up and he left to find answers and travel with the man he’d spent over a hundred years missing desperately and waiting for.

Except the thought of leaving Earth for good no longer filled him with a quiet, impatient desperation like it had for decade after decade while he’d been waiting for time to creep by and bring him the right Doctor. Instead, a cold lump formed in his stomach and he opened his eyes to look down at the top of Ianto’s head resting on his chest, hair dishevelled from him raking his fingers through it when Ianto had been taking him deep and driving him to delicious oblivion.

 _Damn it_. He swallowed down the lump that'd risen to block his throat. If he left with the Doctor now, he was going to miss Ianto. And the entire team for that matter. He’d managed to keep himself mostly detached for decades—apart from a few disastrous relationships that’d been doomed from the beginning—first working as a freelancer for Torchwood, then simply serving as one of the grunts when he’d signed on officially. He should have known when he’d taken over from Alex that he’d eventually find himself in this position—these people were his responsibility and the closest thing he’d had to a family since those months he’d spent travelling with Rose and the Doctor on the TARDIS. Leaving Earth, leaving them, leaving Ianto wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d always expected.

Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be disturbed a few hours later. Ianto had rolled off him at some point to lay on his back next to him in the narrow cot. He was muttering in his sleep, a mixture of English and Welsh. As he started thrashing, Jack sat up, wincing at the stickiness covering his chest. Hell, they really should have had a shower before they’d gone to sleep.

Ianto’s muttering had progressed to ragged breathing and pleading, trapped in who-knew what kind of nightmare—Daleks and Cybermen at Canary Wharf, the night Lisa was killed, cannibals in the wilds of the Welsh countryside, hell even colleagues that couldn’t stay dead. Any of it alone was enough to give a person nightmares for the rest of their lives.

“Ianto,” he murmured softly, not wanting to risk startling him and earning a fist in the face. Carefully, he reached out and gathered Ianto into his arms. At first he fought, but as Jack held him tighter and shushed him, Ianto buried his face into Jack’s neck and sobbed his name, along with something that could have been _help me_. His heart pinched in his chest and for a second, the desperate thought that he’d do _anything_ for Ianto if he only asked flared within him before he shoved it away. Those were dangerous notions to be entertaining.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed, stroking his hands up and down his back and over his shoulders. Ianto’s tears felt like they were scalding his skin where they dampened his neck and trickled down his chest. “Ianto, wake up. Come on, now. I’m right here, you just need to wake up.”

Ianto’s breathing hitched, his body tensing as he finally came out of the dream and probably experienced a moment of confusing disorientation.

“Jack?” His voice was hoarse and he shifted in more tightly against him, arms wrapping around his middle.

“Yeah…you okay?”

Ianto gave a shallow nod beneath his chin, breathing still a little ragged as if he was trying to get ahold of his emotions.

“You want to tell me what that was all about, or just forget like it happened?”

Ianto didn’t answer for a few long minutes and they simply held one another, now breathing in sync. Jack could even feel Ianto’s heartbeat, the way they were pressed so firmly together. It was precious and beautiful and he hated that one day it would stop while he would just keep being dragged forward into a murky future.

“It was Lisa,” Ianto started haltingly. “Not the Lisa I was in love with. Her— From that night.”

Jack didn’t say anything, but stroked a hand up until it settled at the base of Ianto’s neck so he could feather his fingers through the fine hair at his nape.

“She said I couldn’t have you, that I didn’t deserve you. She s-stabbed me.” Ianto took a ragged breath, tightening his hold. “There was so much blood, I could feel it covering my chest. She said she was going to convert you, so I could die knowing that you had become human 2.0, the perfect specimen. She strapped you to a conversion table then shoved me through a door and then I was back in that farmhouse with those people and a knife at my neck. God, I can smell it again—”

Ianto swallowed convulsively, entire body tensing and Jack could only imagine how sick he must be feeling after all that.

“Take a breath, Ianto, through your nose,” he instructed gently.

“I can’t,” Ianto wrenched out, still with his face buried in his neck.

“You can. Take a deep breath and tell me what you can smell.”

For a second it seemed Ianto was stubbornly going to hold his breath until he passed out. Except then he shuddered out a breath and inhaled deeply against his skin.

“So?” he prompted after Ianto had taken several breaths but not said anything.

“ _You_ ,” Ianto replied in a low voice. “You and sex and all that bloody lube you covered us in.”

He gave a relieved laugh, loosening his hold a little as Ianto pushed up on an elbow to look at him.

“Thank you.” Those two words were heartfelt and Ianto’s blue eyes were dark with a warmth that made his pulse skip.

“All part of the service,” he quipped with a grin, trying to take some of the levity out of the moment because of how it was making his heart pound.

“Sorry I woke you,” Ianto said, not seeming to notice anything was amiss as he lowered himself back down again, trying to get comfortable. Except then he wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “Bloody hell, I need a shower.”

Ianto was scrambling across him and getting out of the bunk before he could reply. He paused to look down at him. “Well, come on, then. You’re getting in the shower too.”

He arched an eyebrow at him. “Bossy much?”

A grin spread over Ianto’s too-kissable lips. “I think you like it when I get bossy.”

Oh yeah, he did. But he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. He pushed up as Ianto gave a satisfied nod then preceded him into the ensuit, letting Jack ogle his ass as he followed after him.

There were a lot of things he wasn’t going to admit out loud. Some of them, Jack couldn’t even admit to himself.


	31. Chapter 31

Ianto settled down with a cup of coffee at Tosh’s workstation, a thermos keeping at least another three cups of his brew hot for quick top ups. Now that everyone had gone home for the evening and Jack was who-knew-where, he was planning to set in for a good couple of hours research to get to the bottom of a mystery while he had the hub all to himself.

While he’d been investigating the disappearances in and around Radyr, which had led him to discovering the Saviour beneath The Ferret and Mandy the barmaid knowingly sending people into slavery on an alien world, he’d noticed Cardiff had an alarmingly high missing persons rate compared to most other cities in the UK. At first he’d dismissed it as probably just rift-incidental. Except then he’d thought about it and realised it couldn’t be that simple. Most people who got mixed up with Torchwood business—be it random alien rampage or inadvertent accidents with alien tech—were accounted for. Some dead, many, many retconned. The team wasn’t usually so sloppy as to simply leave it seem like people had simply disappeared without a trace.

There was also the rather disturbing files he’d stumbled across down in the archives last week that’d put things into a different perspective. Rift victims. Up until around the year 2000, people apparently taken and returned by the rift had been kept down in the vaults. The reports on the conditions of the victims had ranged from tragic, to distressing, to utterly horrific. Previous Torchwood administrations had been at a loss as to how to deal with them. Many victims had been killed, the act being considered a kindness. Some had been kept in the depths of Torchwood Three, but attempts to rehabilitate them had been met with failure.

When Jack had taken over from Alex, the reports had just stopped. Ianto wasn’t dumb enough to believe this meant the rift had stopped taking and returning people. The questions was, what was Jack doing with them? He’d almost gone storming up to Jack’s office to demand an explanation, but he knew Jack enough to realise that would get him absolutely nowhere and Jack would shut down faster than the hub going into lockdown.

No, he needed more information at hand. Needed a complete picture before he brought this to Jack. Needed to all but know what Jack had eaten for breakfast that morning so to speak, otherwise Jack would deflect and sublimate, leaving him with no answers and likely an order to keep out of things. If all this time Jack had been keeping from them the fact that the rift regularly took people, then he obviously had his reasonings. It also possibly answered another abnormality he’d been wondering about for months; the giant black hole in Jack’s expenses that seemingly sucked money into nowhere. He’d just figured whatever was behind it, that was all Jack’s business and it didn’t have anything to do with him. Now, he wondered if it somehow related to these missing rift victims. Because if they were no longer being kept in the hub, then what had Jack done with them? For all Jack’s flaws, Ianto didn’t doubt the man’s humanity and didn’t think for a second that Jack had simply killed them like the practice that’d been adopted in the early 1900s right through until the 1950s.

Shaking off any last reservations, he dug into the Torchwood Three records, pulling all kinds of things starting with rift readings, Jack’s financials, the missing persons reports, CCTV files from around the city, getting deeper than he probably had any right to, even recovering some things Jack had deleted and probably thought were gone for good.

By the time the clock had crept past midnight, he’d formed a fairly good picture of what was going on; the rift occasionally threw out negative spikes which unfortunately snatched up people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not all of them came back, but those who did never came back in one piece, not physically or mentally. There was no way to predict when the negative spikes were going to come, no way to predict when or where the few victims who came back would be deposited. The return spikes, however, did have a distinct energy signature, which Jack had figured out and programmed to be ignored as an anomaly on Tosh’s rift readings. Meanwhile, Jack had set it up so those particular alerts went to his own computer. Now that Ianto knew what they were, he realised he’d heard it a number of times since starting here six months back. Jack had fobbed it off as some kind of reminder, but it was always followed by him swiftly disappearing. Since Jack had a habit of doing that anyway, no one tended to take any notice of him.

“God, Jack, what have you gotten yourself into?” He sat back and dragged a hand over his face. He had to talk to Jack about this at some point. All these years since Jack had taken over from Alex, he’d been dealing with these people by himself. After reading some of the horrors in the earlier reports, Ianto couldn’t imagine how demoralising it must have been. Why hadn’t Jack asked for help? He gave a hollow laugh at that thought. This was Jack Harkness he was talking about. Of course he hadn’t asked for help.

He sighed and started closing everything down. He needed to put some serious thought into handling Jack when it came to this issue, otherwise Jack would deflect and push him away. And considering the physical and mental condition of the rift returnees, this was not something Jack should be dealing with by himself. Ianto simply wasn’t going to let it stand.

The sudden trumpet and piano strains of music drifting from Jack’s office made him glance across to see Jack ambling out with his hands in his pockets and a fond smile on his face. As the Andrew Sisters started singing, Jack came over and leaned against the edge of Tosh’s desk.

“Is there a reason you’re here burning the midnight oil?”

He pushed back from the computer and stretched. “Just catching up on things without the inconvenience of being asked to make coffee every five minutes.”

Jack tsked at him. “Slave drivers, aren’t we?”

“Some more than others,” he replied in an exasperated voice as Jack reached down and took his hand, then tugged him to his feet. “What are you doing?”

Jack drew him close, a smile on his face Ianto couldn’t quite read.

“Dance with me.”

“Dance?” Ianto repeated, wondering at the mood Jack was in. He didn’t argue or resist, however, as Jack smoothly turned and stepped them into the rhythm of the smooth jazz-influenced music. Ianto wasn’t sure what the name of the song was, only that he’d heard Jack play this album a number of times before, and it was one of the group’s slower songs, since most of their other numbers were a little more boppy.

He’d taken a few dance lessons at his mam’s instance when he’d been a teenager, but they’d mostly been awkward and he remembered falling over his feet a lot. Jack, however, simply moved them with the slight pressure of his body, murmuring instructions every now and then until Ianto recognised the pattern and quickly picked it up. Until that moment, he’d thought dancing just wasn’t his thing. Apparently it all depended on the teacher.

“Fast learner,” Jack murmured against his ear, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down his spine as the song changed to one a little faster in tempo and Jack went with it, even as he pressed their bodies closer. “I shouldn’t be surprised, you’ve proven to be adept at many, many things lately.”

“I think having the right partner helps,” he replied, sinking more deeply into Jack’s embrace, thinking less about the steps and moves now.

“Mmm, that it does.” Jack’s lips shifted to his jaw, kissing a light path across his skin until he reached a spot beneath his ear where he suddenly opened his mouth and sucked in a way that sent an abrupt and acute shudder of pleasure lancing through him, leaving him groaning in surprise.

“Oh, seems I’ve found the magic spot,” Jack murmured before redoubling his efforts. Jack shifted, pressing a leg between his until Jack’s thigh was putting just the right amount of pressure against his now-aching erection.

Ianto forgot about everything except for clutching Jack closer, knees a breath away from buckling as Jack continued sucking and nipping the place below his ear he hadn’t even realised was so sensitive. Wave after jolting wave of pleasure rippled through him, increasing in intensity each time. Jack was reading him, playing him, gradually pressing his thigh harder against his groin with barely any friction, yet still he could feel himself tightening all over. At the last second, Jack rocked slightly into him, hardly even a movement, really, yet it unceremoniously shoved Ianto right over the edge of sanity with no apology whatsoever. He jerked in Jack’s hold, moaning raggedly as he lost himself to the blinding ecstasy.

When he came back to himself, he was fairly sure Jack was the only thing holding him up.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled where he had his face pressed into Jack’s shoulder. The bloody man should be illegal. How had he even done that? All without even undoing his pants or technically touching him anywhere.

“Bed?” Jack murmured suggestively in his ear, his obvious arousal pressed against Ianto’s hip. He straightened, urging Jack back a step until the older man was leaning against the edge of Gwen’s workstation.

“Bed seems like an awfully long way away.” He jerked at Jack’s belt buckle, earning himself an appreciative noise.

Jack leaned more heavily against the desk, blue eyes burning beneath a hooded gaze as he watched Ianto finish with the belt and make short work of the button and zipper. He sunk down to his knees, pushing Jack’s shirt up a little and kissing down his abdomen. Jack hissed out a breath and slid his hand into Ianto’s hair.

He smiled against Jack’s hip bone at his obvious hints of what he wanted, but Ianto planned on keeping tight control. He finished kissing his way across the smooth expanse beneath Jack’s navel, taking his time before reaching the destination Jack was so desperate for. Then it was a matter of teasing and tempting in a way he’d learned over the past few weeks was sure to drive Jack out of his mind with frustration. When he finally took Jack into his mouth, Jack tried to greedily shove forward, but Ianto simply clamped his hands on Jack’s hips and held him in place. Because it was what Jack needed.

He’d realised it the night when they’d put Suzie in the morgue for the second time and he’d propositioned Jack with the stopwatch, ending with the most memorable sex he’d ever had in his life. He doubted anything would ever surpass it... although since Jack was continuously coming up with new games and pleasures, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was eclipsed one day.

All that aside, he’d recognized what had been going on with Jack, what was beneath the surface, and it’d brought out an almost dominant side of himself he’d enjoyed without reservation. Jack had needed someone else to be in control. He’d needed someone else to take the reins, to completely overwhelm him and own him. He’d needed to not carry the weight of absolutely _everything_ on his shoulders, if only for a few minutes. Though they’d never spoken a word of it, the understanding had passed implicitly between them and after that night, the dynamics of their relationship had shifted.

Sure, this was still just a casual, no-expectations, no-strings, no-complications thing. But in sex and the sharing of pleasure, they’d become equals. Not the boss and the general administrator. Not the alarmingly experienced 51st century charmer and the comparatively inexperienced 21st century novice who’d only slept with two other people in his life—both of whom had been women. He’d given Jack something immeasurable, but important. Something he got the feeling no one else could give him, not the same way Ianto had. Not in the same way they now trusted one another. And if it lit something warm in his chest, something he absolutely refused to recognise or admit to, then it was probably better for both of them if he just went with it and didn’t think about things too closely. Not when this was clearly doing both of them the world of good.

He slowly worked Jack up, knowing he wanted more and wanted it faster. But this way—this way Jack would be puddle at his feet by the time he was done. And bloody hell if he didn’t absolutely relish in the fact he could reduce the larger-than-life Captain Jack Harkness to a whimpering, trembling mess.

With measured strokes of his tongue and only the slightest sucking pressure, he wound Jack tighter, inch by gradual inch. He didn’t give up the game until Jack was literally begging him; a litany of “ _please, please, Ianto, oh God, oh damn, Ianto please,_ ” falling from his lips. 

Lessening the hold he’d had clamped on Jack’s hips, he let him thrust into his mouth, taking him deep and rubbing his tongue in a way he knew would immediately set Jack off. He didn’t disappoint, shouting Ianto’s name as he came in a single long shudder.

He pulled back when Jack was finished, leaning his forehead against Jack’s hip and taking a second to catch his breath, since Jack’s unbridled pleasure had the secondary effect of getting him hard all over again.

“Damn, Ianto,” Jack slumped boneless against the desk.

He grinned as he pushed to his feet. “We should definitely go to bed now.”

Jack cracked open one eye. “Don’t think I can walk.”

“Pity, that.” He slowly unfastened his own belt and trousers, before pulling himself free and pointedly stroking the length, making sure to add a completely indecent moan. “Guess I’ll have to entertain myself.”

 “Ianto Jones, you are a bad man.” Jack pushed a little unsteadily upright, but when he made a grab for him, Ianto simply threw him a grin and stepped out of his reach.

“You want it, come get it.”

The heat that flared in Jack’s eyes made his heart leap. Oh, whoops. Now he’d done it.

Laughing, he turned and fled for the safety of Jack’s bunker… or maybe not so safe as Jack came after him. Either way, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

***

Ianto was just putting the finishing touches on the coffee when the cog wheel door opened and Tosh arrived. He’d spent the night down in Jack’s bunker again—it was becoming somewhat of a habit, but Jack didn’t seem to mind and Ianto had to admit, he was less likely to have nightmares and more likely to get a good night’s sleep whenever Jack was in bed with him; whether it was here at the hub or the nights Jack turned up on the doorstep of his flat with a knowing smile.

This morning he’d woken to find Jack’s mouth doing wicked things to him, and after a very satisfying good-morning greeting between the two of them, Jack had hustled him into the shower and they’d shaved each other instead of respectively taking turns using the mirror over the basin. He couldn’t decide which he’d enjoyed more—having Jack shave him had been oddly relaxing, but shaving Jack had made a warm satisfaction bloom in his chest. Either way, shaving with Jack was far more fun than such a menial task ought to be.

As he took the coffee tray toward the workstations, Gwen and Owen arrived together. Since the night with Mary and it’d come out about the two of them sleeping together—not that it’d been a surprise to him or Jack—the two of them hadn’t bothered being all that subtle any longer. The vague question of whether Gwen might actually break up with Rhys to be with Owen floated across his mind, but he let it go just as quickly. He didn’t think Gwen and Owen would work in an actual relationship, and didn’t really care anyway. Only in so far as Tosh was clearly struggling to pretend like she hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Here, Tosh.” He stopped by her workstation and set her coffee down. “Did you have breakfast? I can pop out and get an apricot Danish if you’d like.”

She glanced up at him with an appreciative smile, but then seem to pause as she slowly reached out and picked up her coffee. Her gaze darted to his neck and then away again, and he wondered if his collar wasn’t straight. He’d barely glanced at himself in the mirror this morning.

“I did have breakfast, thank you,” she finally answered. “But I wouldn’t say no to something mid-morning if you’re going out anyway.”

“I have a few errands to run later, so stopping at the bakery is no trouble.” He glanced over his shoulder as Gwen came to her station and turned on her computer, frowning when she noticed her keyboard shoved out of place. _Whoops_.

“So, Ianto,” Tosh said, gaining his attention. “Did you go out somewhere last night?”

“No, stayed in,” he replied, thinking the question was a little odd, but dismissing it as Tosh just being friendly and asking about his night while he went over and handed Gwen her coffee.

“Must have been a good night in, then.” Gwen was clearly trying to hide a smile as she sipped her coffee and shared a devious glance with Tosh.

“Nothing notable,” he replied slowly, looking between the two of them. Something was going on here, but damned if he could work out what they were so entertained over or why they thought he’d done anything last night.

Owen came up from the autopsy bay now wearing his white lab coat. There was a dead alien waiting to be autopsied, something that looked like a kind of large cat, except it had a snout and no tail. It’d been DOA after coming through the rift yesterday.

The doctor took his coffee, gaze glued to him as he took a gulp. “Blimey, Ianto.”

Owen reached out and grabbed his chin, none-too-gently turning his head to the side. “That’s some hickey you got there. The bird you were with last night must have been a wild one.”

Gwen and Tosh erupted into giggles behind him as he calmly stepped out of Owen’s hold, but held his ground, even though he wanted nothing more than to flee to the bathroom and check exactly how bad it was. _Damn it, Jack_.

“So, go on, then,” Gwen put in. “We want details. Who was she? Was it just a one-night thing or have you been seeing someone behind our backs?”

“What’s going on out here?” Jack’s voice sounded somewhere behind him and he closed his eyes, silently muttering every swear word he could think of in Welsh and English for good measure. He could feel his cheeks getting warm, and debated how much worse Owen would rib him if he simply fled for the safety of the tourist office.

“Ianto was just about to tell us about the chick he shagged last night who left her calling card for all of us to enjoy.” Owen smirked at him and he had to resist the urge to snatch the doctor’s coffee and pour it down his pants.

Jack ambled over and stepped around until he was standing in front of him. Ianto settled a deep glare on him, not caring what the others thought. Jack would get the message.  

Except Jack’s grin only widened. He slowly reached up and traced a finger over the spot below his ear. It was all Ianto could do not to shiver, light trails of pleasure rippling outward as if his traitorous body was reminding him of how much he’d relished it when Jack’s mouth had been on him.

He breathed in, trying to steady himself, but got hit by a dose of Jack’s pheromones which made his cock twitch like it’d been conditioned to automatically respond at the scent. For all he knew, it bloody well had.

“Hmm, very thorough.” Jack’s low words landed somewhere between suggestive and appreciative. He leaned in closer and Ianto’s heart tripped over itself. “And you clearly enjoyed every second of it.”

Bloody, bloody, _bloody_ sodding Jack Harkness. He didn’t know whether he wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“Considering I’ve never seen our tea boy get quite that red before, I’d say that’s a given.” Owen chortled before taking another large gulp of his coffee. “Were you man enough for her, Ianto, or did she wear the pants in bed?”

“Get stuffed, Owen!” He turned on his heel and stomped toward the archives while Gwen and Tosh gave the doctor a sound telling-off.

He wasn’t coming out again for the next week until the mark had completely gone. Owen could get his own fucking coffee, see how he liked that.

“Ianto!”

Jack caught up to him as he reached the stairs going down, but he didn’t stop until the captain had grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt.

“Ianto, I’m sorry.”

Jack sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. And his smile was still way too self-satisfied.

“A hickey, Jack?” he practically shouted, and then glanced along the corridor to the door that opened out into the hub, belatedly worrying Owen or the girls had tagged after Jack to catch the rest of the show.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Now Jack was looking more contrite. “I just got a bit carried away. I can’t help it, the things you do to me—”

Jack’s blue gaze warmed in a way that always make his heart skip. He sighed, the anger quickly fading. He wasn’t really mad at Jack, more at Owen for being a typical prat about things. He just knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of this from the doctor for possibly months.

“I promise,” Jack continued, holding up both hands. “I won’t ever do it again.”

“Well, now,” he said slowly. “I didn’t say that, exactly.”

Almost predictably, Jack’s eyes sparked with interest. “Really?”

“Just not anywhere so visible next time,” he said, stepping in closer.

“Noted,” Jack murmured, before closing the distance between them and capturing his lips.

Compared to most of their other passionate kisses, this one was…comforting. Tender. Jack offering him a more personal apology and him accepting it without reservation. There wasn’t any demand for the kiss to be anything more than what it was, even when Jack pulled him closer so they were pressed against each other. The moment wasn’t about sex or games or escaping their loneliness or demons. It was something else altogether. Something that radiated through his entire body and once again changed, augmented, altered everything he thought he knew about Jack Harkness.

When Jack broke the kiss, it was slow and gentle. He pulled back, an expression of affection flitting over his face. Jack leaned in again, but this time ducked his head and pressed a light kiss below his ear over the mark, before giving Ianto’s hand one last squeeze and sauntering back along the corridor into the hub, bellowing for Owen as he went.

Ianto released a long, uneven breath, not exactly sure what’d just happened, only that as usual, Jack had completely overwhelmed him. That was the thing, though. As long as he was shagging Jack Harkness, then he would probably continue spending half his life asking _what the hell just happened?_


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe its been nearly two weeks since I lasted posted a chapter. I don't know where that time went. Unfortunately, my posting will continue to be sporadic for a while, possibly into December as I have a book I need to finish by the end of the year and another I'd like to get finished if possible, along with all the usual life stuff keeping me busy which doesn't give me much time for fun writing. And I still don't know how or when I'm going to finish this story, only that I'll probably be aiming to do it soonish so I can move on to other projects.  
> Happy reading!

Ianto had snuck into Jack’s computer and set up a small, hopefully unnoticeable program so that next time Jack got the specific alert telling him a rift victim had been returned, a secondary alert would be sent to his own PDA so Ianto would know as well.

Then it was a matter of waiting.

Things got a little hectic with a spate of restless weevils and several small rift spikes that had needed to be dealt with, as well as Gwen investigating the hit and run of a young man who’d occasionally tried to get her attention about possible alien artefacts, turning up at various scenes over the past few months. Funny, she couldn’t ever be bothered giving him the time of day before, and he’d even heard her and Owen making jokes about Eugene being a Torchwood groupie a few times. But when he’d been killed in a seemingly random hit-and-run, which on the surface didn’t seem to be Torchwood related, she’d become typically obsessive and pig-headed about it.

Jack indulged her, of course, while he, Tosh and Owen had picked up the slack with everything else.

Despite some of Gwen’s faults—or charms as Jack chose to see them—there was no denying she had good instincts, and it’d turned out Eugene’s death hadn’t been so straight forward, especially when he appeared at his own wake to shove her out of oncoming traffic. By the time she’d gone home that evening, Ianto had been exhausted simply from hearing over and over how _he just came out of nowhere!_ and _I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him!_ Which Gwen had exclaimed to them all at least twenty times each.

He was probably being a little harsh on his teammate, but he’d been feeling on edge. Not only was he waiting to get an alert about a rift returnee, but because they’d all been so busy, the team had been in and out of the hub at all kinds of odd hours and it’d been a few days since he and Jack had found the time or energy to sneak in a shag, the last one being down in the archives and too quick to be really satisfying.

That evening, however, after Jack had finally sent Gwen home, he’d cornered Ianto and proceeded to act out a fantasy he’d apparently been entertaining himself with for a long while—shagging him senseless against the coffee machine.

Much later, they’d curled up against one another in Jack’s bunker—a necessity really, if they both wanted to fit, considering the size of the bed. Ianto immediately sunk into a deep sleep, looking forward to at least six or seven uninterrupted hours after several too-late nights, too-early mornings and random calls to action at all kinds of dark hours.

Except a trilling dragged him reluctantly from sleep in the early hours of the morning, compounded by the fact that Jack suddenly let him go and scrambled out of bed. He grumbled and rolled into the warm spot Jack had left, groping for the blankets until he realised his PDA was beeping at well.

He sat up, glancing above to the hatch where he could hear Jack tapping at his keyboard in his office. Ianto hurried out of bed, double checking his PDA to see it was definitely the secondary alert he’d set up, then started throwing his clothes on.

Jack came back down into the bunker, now scrambling for his own clothes since he’d gone up to his office without bothering to put anything on.

“Ianto, I need to go out for a bit,” Jack was saying distractedly as he shrugged his shirt on without the usual undershirt and then hopped into his trousers without underwear, not noticing that Ianto had beat him too it and was now waiting by the ladder fully dressed.

“I know, I’m coming.”

This pulled Jack up short and he paused halfway through pulling his braces up to stare at him.

“What?”

“I’m coming.” He waved a hand at Jack in a shooing motion. “Hurry up, we haven’t got all night.”

Jack resumed dressing, confusion settling over his features. “Ianto, this isn’t anything you need to worry about. Why don’t you go back to bed? Keep it warm for me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He checked his watch and did some quick calculations. “It’ll be well past dawn by the time you get back from Flat Holm, so I doubt you’ll get back to bed tonight.”

Jack froze, face going pale, but expression tightening in the way it always did when he was getting ready to shut someone down or push them away.

“I don’t know what you’re—”

He scoffed, effectively cutting off Jack’s completely redundant words.

“Let’s not waste time doing the whole _I don’t know what you’re talking about_ routine. This is me, Jack. I _know_. Everything.”

“How?” Jack demanded, a whole lot of low fury packed into that single word.

He didn’t answer, simply arched a brow.

Jack glanced away with a muttered curse. “Damned to hell archives.”

“I’m not letting you carry all this by yourself anymore. Get as angry at me as you want. Give me another in-house suspension, I don’t care. I’m not backing down.” He crossed his arms, ready to fight Jack on this for as long as it took.

Jack shoved a hand though his hair, shoulders slumping a little. “This is a burden no one should have to carry.”

Seeing the desolation in Jack’s expression—even though he tried to hide it—deflated Ianto's stubborn anger. He stepped forward and took Jack’s hand.

“Then you certainly shouldn’t be doing it alone, should you?”

The ghost of a smile chased across Jack’s lips. “Ianto Jones, most days I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you.”

“Kissing is definitely the better option.” He tugged Jack’s hand gently. “Come on. Sooner we get this done, sooner I can come back and make us coffee.”

Jack caught a hand on his hip and tugged their bodies together. “We get back before the others arrive, remind me to show you just how much I appreciate you.”

He swallowed, trying rather unsuccessfully to resist the heat pooling in his groin at the images that flooded his brain from Jack’s suggestion.

“Noted,” he replied a little unevenly, leaving Jack grinning lasciviously.

They made their way out of the bunker and through to the garage. When they climbed into the SUV and Jack drove them out into the drizzly Cardiff night, Ianto connected his PDA to the SUV’s on board computers and triangulated the location of the rift spike.

“Wow, you really are on top of this,” Jack murmured, glancing at the screen on the dashboard now displaying GPS directions.

He didn’t reply as Jack haphazardly sped through the wet night, his way clear due to the lack of traffic on the road because of the ridiculous time.

They pulled up with a jerk in the vacant lot of a residential area. They were in the outer edge of the Estates, not that far from where his sister lived, reminding him he hadn’t spoken to her in a while. She’d left messages about catching up Christmas Eve since she wanted to stay home with Johnny and the kids on Christmas Day, while Ianto had promised his mam he’d go to hers for dinner. He wondered vaguely what Jack was doing for Christmas, assuming he didn’t have any family to speak of. But then he wondered why he was wondering. Yes, he and Jack were friends, but probably not the kind who shared that kind of thing…were they?

He put the thoughts away to be mulled over later and double checked his PDA to see they were almost right on top of the residual rift radiation. Going around to fetch the medkit stashed in the boot of the SUV, he took out two doses of sedatives and handed one over to Jack, who took it and slipped it into his coat pocket with a grim look on his face.

“You sure you want to do this? You could wait in the car while I go deal with them. Once you see what the rift can do to people, there’s no going back.”

He tugged his jacket straight, ignoring the water that was staring to drip out of his hair and down his neck into the collar of his shirt.

“I’m with you all the way.”

Jack gave a short nod and spun away from him, coat flaring slightly. Though Jack was clearly striving to keep himself in check, Ianto had seen the flicker of relief in the captain’s eyes before he’d turned around. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he’d done the right thing.

He flicked on his flashlight and followed after Jack across the weed-choked lot. While Jack kept his attention to the right, Ianto took the left, sweeping the narrow beam of light over a few boxes of discarded sodden newspapers, a stack of old barrels and a mouldy mattress sagging against the brick wall of the house next door. 

As they got toward the tall wire fence at the back of the lot, Jack clamped a hand on his arm. He glanced at the captain, and Jack nodded pointedly toward a rusted-out car sitting in the far corner. A thin keening wail emanated from the direction, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It didn’t even sound human.

Jack pulled out his gun slowly and settled it across the top of his flashlight. With one last glance at him, Jack took up a lead position, stepping carefully ahead of him. Ianto kept close behind, his torch pointed at the ground just ahead of Jack’s feet so he wouldn’t trip over anything as he cautiously moved forward, searching for their quarry.

At the end of the car, Jack edged around, pointing his flashlight down to the gap between the metal of the fender and the fence. A naked figure was huddled there, head lowered on his knees, long lank hair tangled around his gaunt face, scars crisscrossing his skin in a pattern that suggested someone had cut him purposely and with obvious intent. His shoulders and arms were misshapen, as if his body had been broken and never healed correctly.

“Christ,” he whispered, stomach roiling. For all the reports he’d read, for all he’d told himself he was prepared for this, black and white words on a piece of paper were nothing compared to this reality.

He slipped his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the sedative, uncapping it as Jack re-holstered his gun and then crouched down, movements steady and cautious.

“Hey,” Jack said softly. “Can you tell me your name?”

The man’s head whipped up, his eyes wild as they focused on Jack like a laser. Ianto’s breath caught, but the man moved so suddenly it was impossible to track. One second he was crouched cowering against the fence, the next he was on top of Jack, screeching like a wild animal. His hands—he didn’t have fingers, they looked more like claws—shredding Jack’s shirt and skin beneath.

Ianto leapt forward without thought—instinct alone driving him to save Jack. He jammed the sedative into the back of the man’s neck. He reared up, attention diverted from Jack well enough, but now focused on him. Ianto back-peddled, but came up against the fence, stopping him from retreating any further. The man leapt up, coming right at him with his now-bloody claws extended. A split second before he would have reached him, Jack launched to his feet, Webley already out and aimed.

The single shot cracked loudly, making Ianto flinch. The man impacted into him, knocking all the breath from his body and dragging him down. They landed in a heap, the dead weight half on top of him and cold, wet mud seeping into clothes from beneath him.

“Ianto!”

Jack unceremoniously hauled the body off and tossed it aside, before dropping to his knees and pulling him up.

“I’m okay,” he panted, grabbing onto Jack’s shoulders to anchor himself. Bloody hell, that’d been close. Those sedatives were weevil-strength, they should have knocked a person out in a second flat. Yet the man had barely flinched. And the way his body had been disfigured—

His gaze focused on Jack’s chest, blood darkening the edges of each ragged tear.

“I’m sorry, I should have—” Actually, he didn’t know what he should have done. “Are you alright?”

He gingerly reached out to touch Jack’s chest, lifting the material aside, but not finding any wounds, despite all the blood. Jack caught his hand before he could investigate further. He glanced up into Jack’s grey-blue eyes, knowing his confusion must have been showing. Just like that first night he’d met Jack in the park and the weevil had bitten him. He’d sworn Jack was bleeding from the neck, but by the time they’d subdued the creature and he’d checked, there hadn’t been a wound any longer.

“I heal fast,” Jack murmured, smiling, but he could see the tension behind the expression, see that Jack didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever _it_ was. That was fine, just one more mystery to add to the many already surrounding Jack Harkness. Right now, the only thing on his mind was the fact they were both fine, but sitting in a mud puddle getting rained on with a dead body to take care of. His brain got its act together and reeled off half a dozen things they needed to do immediately, none of which featured him and Jack sitting in a muddy vacant lot hugging.

“Someone might have heard the gunshot and called the heddlu.”

“You’re right,” Jack said with a nod. “We better get out of here.”

Jack got up first and then helped him to his feet, but once he got upright, he was strangely reluctant to let the other man go and gripped his arm a little tighter.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save him. If the sedative had worked quicker or if I’d—”

“It’s not your fault, Ianto. This isn’t the first rift victim I’ve had to kill. Sometimes they’re too dangerous to take to Flat Holm. He was lost the second the rift took him.”

Jack reached up and cupped his face in a reassuring gesture for a brief moment, before stepping back. “Go get the SUV and bring it in closer so we don’t have to carry the body as far.”

He nodded, not that Jack probably saw him, since he was staring down at the dead man with a pensive expression on his face.

Ianto jogged back to the SUV, shivering now that he was completely soaked through from both the rain and ending up in the mud puddle. Another suit lost to Torchwood. Between the mud and blood he doubted it’d be worth trying to salvage.

Pausing to grab out the plastic sheeting he kept tucked and folded in a compartment in the back, he spread it over both the front seats before climbing behind the wheel. The tyres bumped up over the kerb as he pulled into the lot, avoiding the larger pieces of rubbish and praying they didn’t get bogged as he felt the wheels slipping a bit in the mud. He swung the SUV around and backed in the last few metres, leaving the engine running as he got out and helped Jack get the body into the boot. He almost could have laughed as Jack pressed the button to lower the tailgate. Who would have ever thought his life would get to a point where he could stuff a dead body in the boot of a car and not bat an eyelid?

The drive back to the hub went by in absolute silence. Jack looked like he was a million miles away—going through two red lights without even noticing. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. Meanwhile, Ianto was trying to come to terms with the latest reality of the rift they lived beneath. What that man must have gone through, he couldn’t even imagine. And though he’d wanted nothing more than to help the poor sod, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe death had been the kinder option in the end.

When Jack parked in the underground garage, he switched off the SUV but then sat there, staring straight ahead. Ianto paused, sensing Jack had something to say, and knowing the only thing he could do was wait for the other man to get his thoughts in order.

“You should visit the Flat Holm facility.” Jack looked across at him, shadows in his normally sparkling blue eyes. “I mean before another rift victim turns up. I’m kinda glad I didn’t have to take you there tonight, after finding that man the way we did. It’s a lot—”

Jack paused and swallowed, gaze dropping away as he took a deep breath that made his shoulders expand beneath his wet, torn, bloody shirt. He’d taken his coat off earlier and tossed it into the back. “It’s not pleasant. I mean, I’ve done what I can. I’ve done better than the previous administrations, but it’s still—”

Ianto reached across and took Jack’s hand, only to find it shaking.

“It’s okay, Jack. I know.” Truthfully, he didn’t, not really. Oh, he had a better idea after tonight. Whatever he discovered at Flat Holm, he was going to find a way to make this easier on Jack, if he could. It was clearly eating away at him. “Let’s get the body stored and take a nice hot shower.”

Personally, he was planning to stand in the scalding hot water for at least half an hour. It’d probably take that long to wash off the mud and get warm again anyway.

A smile ghosted across Jack’s lips. “Trying to motivate me?”

“Is it working?” he countered.

“The prospect of getting you wet and naked in my shower? Definitely.”

“Last one in, first one on their knees.” He was already reaching for the handle to shove open the door.

Both Jack’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Who would have ever guessed you had such a wicked streak hidden beneath those perfectly pressed suits?”

By now, he was out of the SUV and paused to look back in at Jack. “You’ve only just scratched the surface, Jack, believe me.”

He slammed the door with satisfaction at the last glimpse of Jack with his mouth hanging open. Maybe from the outside of their relationship—if Owen and the others knew about him and Jack shagging—it would seem odd, like they didn’t match. Like what could Captain Jack Harkness possibly see in Ianto Jones? Yet the more time went by, the more he got to know of the enigmatic captain, the more he was staring to think they might be far more suited than he’d ever imagined when he’d first stated entertaining the idea that maybe he and Jack could be more than just colleagues or friends.

Only problem was, he’d started this whole thing with the intention of keeping things uncomplicated and easy. He’d only lost Lisa a few short months ago—though truth be known, he’d started mourning her the day of Canary Wharf. Somewhere deep inside he’d known she couldn’t be saved, that he was only delaying the inevitable. He didn’t think he was ready for another relationship, never thought he’d _ever_ end up considering a relationship with another man and didn’t know if that came with different expectations and parameters. And lastly, Jack flirt-with-anything-that-moves Harkness didn’t exactly seem like relationship material. Which was partly why he’d started this whole thing with him in the first place—Jack understood his need, even when he didn’t. Jack didn’t expect more of him than he was willing or able to give. Jack let him do his own thing but was there for him the second he needed someone. They had a good thing. Why complicate it by getting more emotionally involved?

He shoved the thoughts aside as he went around to meet Jack at the back of the SUV to life the body out.

The real problem was, he’d started realising that maybe his head and his heart wanted two very different things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what Ianto and Jack got up to at the coffee machine, then my fic Janto and the Coffee Thing (part 19 of the Janto files series) could almost be considered an out-take ;)


	33. Chapter 33

Jack stepped back as Ianto secured the lock on the draw in the morgue and then picked up a clipboard he’d left on the floor leaning upright against the lower doors. Fudging the documents, Jack guessed, so that it looked like there’d always been a body behind door number 034 all along.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his wet, muddy clothes. He had no idea how he felt about Ianto knowing the truth of Flat Holm. He should have expected this, however, that Ianto would find out one way or another eventually. When it came to Torchwood, nothing got by the man. He was starting to think the same could be said when it came to Ianto’s knowledge himself. Ianto always seemed to know what he needed, how to handle him, even when he didn’t know himself.

Of course he’d been angry at first; one more of his secrets ripped out into the harsh light of day. But at least he didn’t have to worry that Ianto would judge him for it. Find him wanting over his treatment of the rift victims. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the months to simply tell Ianto the truth, he knew basically everything else about Torchwood Three and the hub. He had been considering tactics to bring it up, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject. Problem was, there was no easy way of explaining something like Flat Holm, so he’d simply put it off. Yet he’d known deep down that Ianto could handle it. Ianto had been Torchwood One. He understood things in a way the others never would. He’d proven that over and over. Ianto understood _him_ , even if he didn’t know the depths of his secrets, his past and his demons.

In fact he’d proven it so well, Jack was beginning to think he needed Ianto in a way he’d vary rarely needed anyone else. The thought was quietly terrifying. Not only because of the eventual inevitability of Ianto's death, but especially since to Ianto’s mind, they had a casual arrangement that didn’t involve messy things like commitment or emotions or any parameters for exactly what they meant to one another. This was safer. He wanted Ianto, needed Ianto, wasn’t willing to give Ianto up, but he also couldn’t risk getting in any deeper, which certainly shouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t what Ianto wanted from him.

Ianto tucked the clipboard under his arm and glanced up at him. “All done here, sir. Ready to head up?”

“Thank you, Ianto,” he said quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“For what, then?” Ianto asked, closing the distance between them.

He sent the younger man a small smile. “You really have to ask?”

Ianto stopped in front of him and gave a self-depreciating shrug. “Well, I did imagine all kinds of responses you might have when you found out I knew about Flat Holm, but I have to admit, _thank you_ rated fairly low on the list.”

This time his smile was wider and a little more affectionate. “You and your lists.”

“They do come in handy from time to time.” The ghost of an impertinent grin crossed Ianto’s features.

“So it would seem,” he replied, remembering some of their more memorable nights when Ianto had presented him with a list. The man had an undeniably wicked imagination; he was just as likely to lead them into mischief as Jack was himself.

He shivered, absently pulling his wet coat more tightly around himself. After growing up on the Boeshane Peninsular, he’d never quite gotten used to this cold, damp country. The others couldn’t understand how he could wear his coat on a “hot” day during the Cardiff summer. When it got anywhere over 25 degrees Celsius, they called it a heatwave. On the Boeshane Peninsular, they would have considered that winter. It’d regularly gotten over 40 degrees during his childhood summers, there were days of 42 or 43 when he would still be playing outside with Grey, splashing in the shallows of the inlet their house had been built next to. Despite him being stuck here well over 100 years, he’d never fully acclimatised to the cold—the heavy woollen coat had been a necessity that just happened to look amazing on him and became part of who he was.

Ianto reached down and clasped his fingers. “Come on, it’s long past time we got out of these wet clothes.”

Jack let Ianto lead him up to the hub and then down into the bunker. Ianto carefully hung up the greatcoat, but the rest of their clothes were dumped unceremoniously in a pile on the bathroom floor, Ianto muttering about ruining yet another suit.

Jack had barely stepped into the shower stall when Ianto came up against him for a deep, dragging kiss and _oh yeah_ it was exactly what he needed. Ianto knew. He always knew. Jack buried all the feelings of helplessness and frustration and futility and let the sensation of Ianto’s tongue pressing demandingly against his own engulf everything else.

Between the hot water streaming over both of them and Ianto plastered against the full length of his body, Jack soon forgot the chill—one that he sometimes swore radiated from the depths of his being.

Ianto took great care washing the last of the blood and mud from him, the soapy strokes lingering, lightly teasing but not demanding, peppered with patient kisses, slowly but surely draining any remaining tension within him. By the time Ianto shut the water off and handed him a big fluffy towel, Jack was practically hypnotised. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed.

Neither of them dressed once they were dried. Ianto chucked the damp towels on the pile of wet clothes and then hustled him out of the bathroom toward his bed. This time when Ianto kissed him, there was definitely more intent behind the action, more drive and desperation that sparked an answering desire within him.

Jack pulled Ianto down onto the bed with him, settling into deeper kisses and hands stroking over each other’s bodies. After a few long moments, he broke the kiss and rolled, stretching out on his stomach and relaxing beneath Ianto’s touch, who hadn’t missed a beat at the sudden change in position.

Ianto nudged his legs apart with a knee as he rubbed soothing hands up and down the length of his spine, scattering his neck and shoulders with kisses every now and then. Closing his eyes, Jack simply immersed himself in the moment and Ianto’s continued ministrations.

When Ianto finally took him, he was more than ready, but didn’t urge Ianto to go faster or harder. The slow, steady strokes were damned near perfect, and when he came, it wasn’t so much an explosion as a total disintegration, like he was contentedly and completely falling to pieces in the best way possible.

As he drifted on a haze of bone-deep gratification with Ianto snuggled up next to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Certainly not in the last century. Maybe not even since he’d landed on Earth. No one in this time, on this planet had ever brought him this measure of soul-deep comfort.

 _Only Ianto_. 

***

Jack was just finishing his first coffee for the day when the others arrived, Ianto perched on the edge of his desk, his fingers toying with the sleeve of Jack’s shirt where he had his hand resting on the desk, his own thumb rubbing small circles against the side of Ianto’s thigh.

They hadn’t been discussing anything of significance, just random team-tidbits like how Owen was still trying to beat Ianto’s score down on the gun range, or Gwen’s stash of Cadbury’s dairy milk chocolate she thought no one knew about, or Tosh’s displeasure because Owen had raided her pens and lost her favourite one.

When the cog wheel door sounded, Ianto immediately got to his feet, tugged his waistcoat straight and slipped into professional mode, and it was almost like half the warmth got sucked out of the room. Jack was all for keeping their relationship under wraps; he didn’t know how the rest of the team would take it and it could unnecessarily complicate things. But part of him was struck with the ridiculous urge to tell the team to beat it so he could spend an entire day enjoying the relaxed intimate side of Ianto only he ever got to see.

He sighed as Ianto disappeared toward the steps leading up to the kitchenette on the second level, then went to his office door way.

“Meeting in the conference room, ten minutes!” he announced, not bothering to wait for any reaction before returning to his desk and double checking there was nothing he needed to take care of today. Possibly Ianto might argue some of the paperwork was now ridiculously overdue, but he had a more pressing issue that needed to be done today. Not only that, it wasn’t going to be pleasant and he wanted to get it over with.

He followed the team as they filed into the conference room and accepted a second mug of coffee from Ianto.

“Okay, team. Anything to report?” He settled back in his seat, gaze landing on Owen first as Ianto put the tray aside and then took his own seat at the opposite end of the table next to Tosh.

“That orange slime we collected from the building site in Rumney was organic, non-toxic, but definitely alien,” Owen started after taking a quick gulp of coffee. “It’s already started breaking down and I can’t see it’ll do any damaged to the environment or anything. Should be right to take down the containment fence and just let it dissipate.”

“Any mutants turn up, I’m sending them your way.” Jack sent him a playful warning glance, to which Owen muttered _ha-ha_ , as Ianto took notes. Probably about getting some contractors to take down the fence so they didn’t have to do it themselves. Jack turned his attention onward, wanting to get the meeting done with.

“Gwen?”

“Nothing notable coming through any of the regular channels. Although UNIT thought they were onto a winner yesterday with some lights reported over Porthcawl. Turned out to be a very well put together prank.”

He smiled into his cup, enjoying the idea of how much time UNIT might have wasted with that.

“Tosh, your rift prediction program seems to be running well,” he said, moving on to the tech genius. “What’s the forecast for today?”

Tosh’s lips pursed for a moment. “It’s not completely accurate, Jack. I’m still trying to figure out some minor glitches. But it is looking like there’s the possibility of a large spike later this evening.”

Owen groaned. “Why can’t the rift spike during office hours? I wanted to hit that new bar on St Mary’s Street tonight.”

“I’ll send it a memo. That’ll fix it for sure,” Jack drawled. He slapped his hands on the table as he stood. “Right, you three have the hub to yourselves. Ianto and I are going out for most of the day. We’ll be on comms if you need anything, but might not be able to get back in a hurry. Anything happens, I trust you’ll be able to handle it.”

If Ianto was surprised, he didn’t show it, keeping his expression perfectly composed as he reviewed the notes he’d taken during the meeting and added a few more.

“Wait.” Owen sat straighter, sending a curious scowl toward Ianto. “Where are you two off to?”

“We have administrative stuff to do.” Jack crossed his arms as Owen and Gwen simply looked more suspicious, while Toshiko glanced furtively at their general administrator. Maybe he should have come up with a better excuse.

“Administrative stuff?” Owen repeated slowly, the scepticism clear in his voice.

“At the city council offices. We have a meeting with the mayor, followed by a meeting with the city’s transport manager,” Ianto put in, voice bland. “Followed by a meeting with the people responsible for allocating funds during times of disaster, followed by the officer in charge of writing the city policies. Shall I go on with our entire itinerary, or is that enough? Perhaps you’d like to go in my place Owen. I’m sure to have a cramped hand by lunchtime from taking copious notes. You’d be sparing me hours of extreme discomfort.”

Jack fought to keep his face straight as Owen looked like he was ready to bolt for the nearest exit. Ianto Jones was smooth, the cover story as good as any and not likely to raise any more questions from their fellow team members.

“Nah, you’ll be in your element.” Owen slouched back to finish his coffee, apparently appeased. “All those stuffed shirts and prissy knobs pushing papers like their life depends on it. Wouldn’t want to deny you all that fun.”

“How altruistic of you, Owen,” Ianto replied with a bland smile.

“Alright kids,” he clapped his hands, gaining everyone’s attention again. “You’ve all got work to do. Ianto and I will be back late in the afternoon before that predicted rift spike.”

Tosh, Owen and Gwen all got up and made their way out of the conference room, chatting between themselves. Ianto set his notes aside as he got to his feet and collected the empty mugs.

“What are we really doing today?”

Jack crossed his arms, watching the efficiency of his movements. “I told you, I want to take you out to Flat Holm before the next victim turns up.”

A flash of something he couldn’t quite read passed across Ianto’s features before he schooled them behind a practised smile. “No time like the present.”

Jack took a slow breath as Ianto nodded and then whisked the tray away to clean the mugs before they left. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do today was go out to Flat Holm. He’d never shirked his responsibilities and avoided the place, but every time he went there, it was like looking into the abyss of his own short comings and he wasn’t even sure why. He was doing everything humanly possible for the victims, treating them far better than any of the previous administrations had. Yet still the futile, helpless sense of frustration always overtook him as soon as he stepped foot on the boat to cross the channel.

Maybe this time it would be different taking Ianto with him. He still wished he didn’t have to expose this side of Torchwood to the younger man, but he had to admit, sharing the burden was already making the prospect of dealing with the island and its inhabitants easier to stomach.


End file.
